Ruthie and Peter's Honeymoon Nightmare
by The-Big-Show1
Summary: Sequel to Somebody Has to Stop Him! Ruthie and Peter's honeymoon is marred when other vacationing couples are attacked, or even murdered. Can they solve the mystery before they,or their friends, are next? R for sexuality, rape, multiple slash
1. Alternative Coffee House

RUTHIE AND PETER'S HONEYMOON NIGHTMARE  
  
Chapter One  
  
It was over a year since Peter Petrovsky had proposed to his sweetheart, Ruthie Camden. She had been so stunned when he finally did pop the question that she had burst into tears. The following months were quite heady, between taking the SATs and keeping their marks up. They had won full scholarships to UCLA, and had managed to snag one of the limited numbers of co-ed apartments on campus. But they were also focused on preparing for their wedding day, which was scheduled for a couple weeks after their high school graduation.  
  
It was Valentine's Day. While it had been nearly two years since they last made love, Ruthie and Peter were determined to at least attempt to cool the raging fires between them until their wedding night. But Ruthie wanted to do something that was romantic and different. It turned out she had luck on her side. Inspired by an unusual custom that was long in vogue in Japanese coffee houses, a local spa happened on the idea of having customers pay about $50 for the privilege of steaming oneself for one hour in a vat, totally surrounded by ground up, piping hot coffee beans – and with nothing on except a paper bikini covering the crotch area.  
  
Ruthie had called into one of the innumerable radio contests hoping to get front-row seats and backstage passes to see a hot concert act. But when she failed to answer the question correctly (it was something to do with the country with the oldest continuing democratically elected assembly – answer, Iceland, where the Allthing has met since 930; her guess had been Switzerland), she got two one-hour passes to the coffee spa. Peter thought the idea of exfoliating in coffee residue was weird at first, but he accepted her offer of a date when he reckoned that if he didn't, she'd give the passes to her sister and brother-in-law, Lucy and Kevin Kinkirk.  
  
And so, on a Tuesday night, after they had finished their homework, they made the trek to the spa. They were instructed to undress and put on only the paper pants. This, they did in separate dressing rooms. They then made their way into the appointed room. It had been a long time since Peter had seen Ruthie's bosom like this, but she didn't mind. After slipping inside their appointed vat which they shared (there were six, each of which could hold two to four people – but this night, they were all alone), an attendant brought over what looked like two chutes. He pressed a button, and out it came: hundreds of pounds of steaming, ground coffee beans, kept at a temperature of 140 degrees Fahrenheit, until only their heads and necklines were visible. Every few minutes, the attendant would return and rake some of the coffee, so that the top remained hot.  
  
It was like nothing else Ruthie and Peter had ever experienced. It certainly was different, and the thought that each other was almost completed naked under all that coffee make both terribly excited and wanting to have each other as dessert once this was all over.  
  
After their hour was up, the attendant returned, and shoveled some of the coffee away so that their shoulders were now visible. He then reached forward and pulled each of them out. At that moment, Ruthie wanted to get Peter right then and there, but they both decided to stick to protocol. They returned to their dressing rooms, cleaned themselves off, removed the now rather crumpled up paper shorts, and got dressed.  
  
"Wow, Ruthie, that was absolutely amazing!" said Peter, once they left and took a brief walk to the Promenade – ordering milkshakes for themselves.  
  
"It was different," agreed Ruthie. "I'm glad you did like it. And to think we almost did ... well, you know."  
  
"Yeah," laughed Peter. "But in about four months, we'll finally be able to do it again – for real. And this time, with nothing between us at all."  
  
"It's going to be weird," said Ruthie, "being pregnant – again." She paused wistfully, remembering how Peter had knocked her up a few months after they had started their sexual liaison at a summer arts camp – but how it ended in a miscarriage.  
  
"We made a mistake, Ruthie," said Peter. "But now we're ready."  
  
"Still, it would've been nice if your mother was still around."  
  
"What's done is done," said Peter. "I've cried a river of tears over what happened between my parents. But it's not going to bring either of them back."  
  
"Oh well," said Ruthie. "Anyway, Peter, we have to talk about the wedding. You know we have less than a month to finalize who's going to be in our wedding party. Mary's going to be matron of honor. Who's your best man?"  
  
"Rod."  
  
"You're kidding! Lucy's old boyfriend? Why him?"  
  
"We've kept an e-mail correspondence ever since the trial a couple of years ago. During the times his Marine unit was here, we had coffee and talked military stuff. Not that I'm ever going to enlist, but I've kind of come to trust him."  
  
"Well, that's really cool," said Ruthie. "It'll be kind of neat to see him again."  
  
The two talked some more, then they returned back to the parsonage. Peter was still boarding with the family, as he had for quite some time. He and Ruthie figured they still had some time before the official 'curfew', so they made out with their clothes on for about an hour or so. They then kissed each other good night. Peter made his way to his room, while Ruthie went up to her attic bedroom.  
  
The next morning at breakfast, Lucy and Kevin were cooking bacon and eggs for Peter and Ruthie. Eric and Annie, having had a romantic Valentine's night at home, were having breakfast in bed, joined by Sam and David.  
  
As Lucy served the breakfast and poured some orange juice for Peter, he asked his future sister-in-law: "Luce, do you mind if I ask you and Kevin a personal question? You don't have to answer, but it's something that's been on Ruthie's and my minds."  
  
"Of course, Peter," said Lucy, "as long as it's not too personal."  
  
"Ruthie and I have been talking about it, and we've decided we want to start a family as soon as we can. Like, on our honeymoon."  
  
"So what's your question?"  
  
"Well, we want to try, but we don't want to try too hard," said Ruthie. "How often did you and Kevin have sex when you were trying to get pregnant with your twins – Jennifer and Charles?"  
  
"Um – like most newlyweds, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. I'd say about three or four times a week," replied Lucy nervously. She normally would not have answered such a provocative question, but in this case she did because she knew how important it was to her sister and future brother-in-law. "Mind you, having children wasn't the most important thing on our minds. We just like the idea of being married. That we did get pregnant was the best thing that could happen as a result, but if we had to wait a few more years, we would have."  
  
"But what if you didn't get pregnant at all?" asked Peter. "How far would you go to try to have a baby?"  
  
"You mean something like a test-tube baby?" asked Kevin. "Lucy and I talked about it, but we've had three kids so far the normal way, so it's kind of a moot point."  
  
"But would you and Luce have gone that route, Kevin? Would you, even though you're Catholic?"  
  
"Most Catholics in America, me included, think it's really no one's business what we do to create new life, not even the Vatican's. I was born around the time the first in-vitro baby was born – Louise Brown, in Britain. But my parents did remember the flack that happened when the then Pope said that it was wrong for her to be created that way. They were quite indignant, in fact. I mean, her parents were her parents – nothing changed there. Who cares if she was conceived in a Petri dish and not a womb?" Kevin took a breath, and then added, "So, yes, Peter, Lucy and I would have done that. Surrogate motherhood, never."  
  
"And why are you worried about that anyway?" asked Lucy. "You got pregnant once before. It didn't work out, but you did. And when do you have children of your own, you'll feel like no other feeling in the world."  
  
"Thanks, sis," said Ruthie, giving Lucy a big hug. "Well, Pete, I think we should finish this and go to school. Afterwards, I have to go to the dressmaker for my initial measurements."  
  
"And I have to go to the formal shop," said Peter. "I'm still trying to decide whether I should –"  
  
"Buy," interrupted Kevin. "Buy your tuxedo. You and Ruthie will find you're going to go to a lot more formal occasions than you think. A good, carefully chosen tux will go with any formal dress your wife will wear. And it'll last you at least a few years."  
  
"Thanks, Kevin," grinned Peter.  
  
Having finished their lunch, the lovebirds made their way to school, and another long grind. Kevin and Lucy, meanwhile, had a "quickie" before each went to work: he at the police station, she at the church. 


	2. Semper Fi

To respond to an inquiry about chapter one, about bathing in steaming hot coffee grind – I don't know if they exist on this side of the pond, but they do have such coffee spas in Japan. I read about them more than twenty years ago in National Geographic, in an investigation they were doing about the coffee trade. Here's the next part ...  
  
Chapter Two  
  
"Can I see Ruthie, please?"  
  
Those words came from a young gentleman, in dress Marine uniform, and were addressed to the dressmaker and owner at the local bridal shop.  
  
"It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding," said the dressmaker pointedly.  
  
"Oh, I'm not the groom, I'm the best man," laughed Rod.  
  
"It's okay, Cathy," said Ruthie from the next room. "He's telling the truth."  
  
The dressmaker obliged, and let Rod go in. He saw Ruthie being fitted in her wedding dress; this being her second fitting session. It was only April, but with the wedding coming in just two months, she wanted the loose ends tucked in as soon as possible.  
  
"Wow, Ruthie, you look great!" said Rod, smiling.  
  
"It's good to see you again, Lieutenant," replied Ruthie.  
  
"It's Rod," said Rod. "Our unit, 2/5, just finished our tour in Okinawa, and I'm back in town to visit my Dad. Since I'm here, I just wanted to see how you're doing."  
  
"How did you know where I was?" asked Ruthie.  
  
"Lucy, over at the church," said Rod. "I was a little surprised when she told me that she was going to be the minister marrying you and Peter. Why not your father?"  
  
"One, he's semi-retired. Second, he's already married Matt and Luce, so it's someone else's turn to do the weddings in my family. Third, and it's kind of weird, Peter actually likes Lucy better than Dad."  
  
"Wasn't Eric hurt by that?"  
  
"No, not at all," said Ruthie, as the assistant dressmaker was tightening a hemline around her waist, while the bride-to-be herself was adjusting her veil. "Dad understands this is my wedding, not his, so it's perfectly okay if Lucy officiates."  
  
"Well, there's another reason why I'm here," said Rod. "As the best man, I have to get a gift for you and Peter. I wanted to get your input on what you and your fiancé would like. Are you registered?"  
  
"Sure we are. Look in my purse, Rod."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just look in my purse," repeated Ruthie. "You'll see a stack of business cards next to my wallet, wrapped in an elastic band. They're all identical, so you can take one. It's the list of all the places where Peter and I are registered. Go to the websites of each of those stores, log in the password we've provided, and you'll see the items we still require from those places. We've got just about everything we need for furniture, kitchenware, carpets – you name it, although there's a few items left from each of those places. But we still need lots of stuff from the home improvement registry."  
  
"Power tools, that kind of stuff?" asked Rod.  
  
"Yes," said the woman. "I can't believe that everyone on our guest list seems to have forgotten that Pete and I still volunteer for Habitat. Plus, it would be nice to have that stuff in advance, even if we're going to be living in residence for a few years."  
  
"I agree," said Rod. "Well, tell you what. The wives and husbands of all the other Marines usually pitch in for that kind of thing, when one of our own is getting married. Since I've always seen you as a distant relation, Shelby and I can see if they'd be willing to help a friend, too."  
  
"Shelby?" asked Ruthie. "Lucy's old friend? The one who came to our house all those years ago, just because she was hungry?"  
  
"Yes, her. Besides, didn't Lucy tell you?" replied Rod. "She's a Marine now too – and my fiancée."  
  
"Oh, my God, congratulations!" said Ruthie, stepping down from the platform and giving Rod a hug. "Since when?"  
  
"Well, she kind of pulled a Sadie Hawkins last week, when she popped the question to me. I was going to wait till summer to propose to her, but I figured, what the heck?"  
  
"Incredible," said Ruthie. "When's the big day?"  
  
"In the fall," answered Rod. "But anyway, is there something you and Peter could really use? Something Shelby and I could offer as a gift?"  
  
Ruthie thought about it for a few seconds.  
  
"Well," she finally said, taking a seat and pushing the ten-foot long train to one side, "if you and Shelby really insist – we could use a tool and socket set. The kind auto mechanics use – the kind with everything available in it. You never know when you're going to need a special screw- head, nail driver, or bolt cutter. For example, Pete and I like using Robertson's – you know, square recessed nails – to do finishing jobs on cabinets. They're so much better resisting strip-offs than Phillips. But here in the States, you can only find the squares in craft shops, and the odd home improvement superstore. In Canada, by contrast, they're so ubiquitous it's not funny. Having a tool kit like that would be so handy – it'd allow us to finish our shift for Habitat in half the time, or less."  
  
"Oh, come on, Ruthie," said Rod, "anyone could get that for you, and that would be only a few hundred bucks. You deserve something more than that – after all, I'm supposed to be best man."  
  
"Well," said Ruthie, "I told you what I want. But the registry lists everything Peter and I need. So you and Shelby have fun with it. If you want to save it as a surprise for our wedding day, be my guest."  
  
"All right, we'll have a look," said Rod. "Thanks. By the way, you and Peter might want to get your marriage license now, before the big rush. June is always the busiest month for weddings, and you don't want to get stuck in line at the last minute down at the county clerk's office."  
  
"I've been meaning to tell Peter that," said Ruthie, "but we're so busy preparing for final exams and this that it's totally slipped our minds."  
  
"Well, don't," said Rod. "The permits are good for up to three months, and you know the saying about the early bird."  
  
"I know," said Ruthie. She looked her old friend, who she once comforted with genuine compassion when his mother died. "I've been meaning to ask you something, Rod, and if you don't want to answer ..."  
  
"You've been wondering how Shelby and I linked up?"  
  
"Yes," said Ruthie.  
  
"After all that business, and she and I having to go through the hell of having to say what happened to both of us at the trial, I guess we were both looking for comfort. We testified practically one after the other, and afterwards, I asked her out to coffee. She offered to go Dutch for supper. And so, we just went out to dinner and relived our experiences for hours and hours. By midnight that day, she invited me over to sleep in her bed and we made love. We've been together ever since."  
  
"I hope you're not getting married for the wrong reasons," worried Ruthie. "I know you have common ears and a common tormentor, but ..."  
  
"We have more in common than that, Ruthie," said Rod. "If we didn't, we would've had just a one night stand; which from our viewpoint would've been okay, because we both wanted to have sex with someone, anyone, just to get back at that bastard."  
  
"And what made her want to join the Marines?" Ruthie was really curious about that. "She seemed more of the thinker type. I know you and her were best friends in high school, but from what Lucy told me, it was just that – you never really dated each other then because you were total opposites."  
  
"It's a fair question, Ruthie. Short answer: It's hard to explain what you're doing out of the country when you have a security clearance – a fairly high one – and the love of your life doesn't, and you can't tell her what you've been up to or what you're going to do next, even during pillow talk. So she put herself up for basic training, vowing if she couldn't make it she'd never ask me about my job ever again. She enlisted and then went down to Parris Island, South Carolina. Shelby passed with flying colors, leaving a lot of the men in her class in the dust. As they gave up one by one and left, wondering how in the hell they ended up playing second fiddle to a woman, she so wanted to taunt them by saying 'A few good men, my ass!' But it wasn't her style. She was just glad she made it through."  
  
Ruthie laughed so hard she fell out of her chair. Rod helped her back up.  
  
"So you've been in now for, what, almost five years now."  
  
"Six."  
  
"And for Shelby, this will be ..."  
  
"It's been two years now; a little more than that now, actually. In fact, it has been just long enough that we're now posted together, on the same base, year round. While she was on probation, we had to live separate and apart just to make sure our relationship wasn't getting in the way of our duties. I understand the reason for that, and so does my fiancée, but it really got to the extreme. At one point, she was in Saudi Arabia training to blow up enemy missile batteries, while I was down in Australia, on post guard at the American consulate in Sydney. Somehow, we managed being apart."  
  
"I'm glad," said Ruthie. "Well, send her my best, and Peter's. Make sure you and her show up for the rehearsal in six weeks – and I hope you figure out what you'll get by then."  
  
"By then," said Rod, "she and I might even elope. We might not be able to wait that long."  
  
Rod grinned, gave Ruthie a military salute, and left the bridal shop. As soon as he did, Ruthie called Peter, saying it was probably time they got their marriage license. They went to the clerk's office, paid their fee, and got the precious piece of paper, which Ruthie then put in a safe deposit box at a bank on the way home. They then returned to his apartment and made out until Lucy knocked on the door and told them that supper was served. 


	3. Rehearsal and Memories

Chapter Three  
  
"And then, I'll say: 'By the powers invested in me through the power of Almighty God and by the laws of the State of California, I now pronounce you to be husband and wife. Then I'll tell you two to kiss each other, and after that you sign the register and you'll be Mr. and Mrs. Peter Petrovsky."  
  
Those words came from Rev. Lucy Camden Kinkirk, the minister of Glen Oak Community Church. She was going through the motions of the rehearsal for the wedding. But it was also the very first marriage ceremony she was going to conduct, and she was as nervous as any wet-behind-the-ears minister.  
  
"That's cool, Luce," said Ruthie. She was wearing a semi-formal business suit that evening, while her fiancé, Peter, was wearing a jacket, denim shirt and slacks. "You're just forgetting one thing."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Peter and I already agreed I'm keeping my maiden name. I'm not changing my name; I'm not taking his name either before or after mine. I'm still going to be Ruthie Bernadette Camden. The only difference is that now I'll be Ms, not Miss."  
  
"You're okay with that, Peter?" asked Lucy.  
  
"Sure I am, Rev," said Peter. "The name Camden is a great name, and as soon as we agreed to get married, I promised her I'd let her be her own person. She's not going to be my property, and what she does is her own business."  
  
Lucy nodded, remembering how Matt nearly flipped out when he discovered that his wife, Sarah Glass, had kept her maiden name nearly a year and a half after they had tied the knot at her father's synagogue. That Peter was willing to make such an important concession early on told Lucy that Ruthie had not rushed into a decision to get married to her love – which she had thought this one through.  
  
"Well, I think it's time for all of us to go to the rehearsal dinner," the minister finally said. "It's not going to wait for us, I don't think."  
  
The rehearsal dinner, consisting of the entire wedding party and Lucy herself, went off without a hitch. It was almost like old friends night as the group caught up with each other's lives. Towards the end of the meal, Rod and his fiancée, Shelby, in dress Marine uniforms, stood up and said they had an announcement to make.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Shelby said, "it is with great pleasure that we announce that we got married last night in a chapel ceremony at a military base just outside of Las Vegas. We're on leave for the next four weeks, and we're going on honeymoon, the day after tomorrow, in Honolulu."  
  
"No kidding!" said Ruthie, in total shock. "That's where Peter and I are going, too!"  
  
"Yeah, congratulations!" said Peter. "What hotel, by the way?"  
  
"It's a hotel run by the military, just for servicepersons and their families," said Shelby. "It's right near the Western end of the Waikiki district. The rates are great, and the security is too – Military Police on guard duty, 24/7."  
  
"Then I think we're just going to be a few doors down from you," said Ruthie. "We're staying at the Aston, right on the beach. Mind you, I think Peter and I are going to be too busy, too."  
  
Everyone laughed. They all then went in different directions. Peter decided to spend the night at the hotel where he and Ruthie would spend their first night as a married couple, a few floors below where the honeymoon suite was. Ruthie spent her last night as a single woman in her attic bedroom.  
  
She chose to sleep under her covers, unclothed. As she pulled over her blindfold to speed up the process of semi-unconsciousness, her mind went back to the evening nearly three years ago when she and Peter first made love. It was the first time for both of them, and while it was relatively brief, it was the culmination of nearly three years of a cat and mouse game of flirtation. She recalled how their liaisons had gotten increasingly torrid, until finally both decided they really needed a break if they had any chance of salvaging their relationship.  
  
To that evening, and even now, she did not regret in the slightest their decision to take things "all the way;" even if her sister and their father were both ministers. But now, twelve hours before the ceremony, Ruthie Camden was coming to the realization that starting tomorrow, she would be legally bound to one and only one person and that she would have relations with only that one person for the rest of her life. For the first time, she wondered if perhaps she should have played the market some more, having relationships (both platonic and physical) with other young men before she decided on Peter.  
  
It was not that she didn't love Peter; she loved him more than anyone else save and except God. It was just that now, she was committing to a relationship that could last fifty years or more. If she suddenly became disfigured in some way, or was unable at some point in the future to have an intimate relationship with Peter, would he leave her? If the same happened to him, would she betray his trust?  
  
Across town in his hotel room, Peter Petrovsky was going through the same emotions. From his perspective as a man, however, it seemed strange that he was about to marry the first and only woman with whom he had ever had sex. And technically, they were breaking the law as they were both under eighteen when they had become lovers. He loved Ruthie more than anything, but wished that maybe – just maybe – he had sowed a few wild oats with some other women before settling on Ruthie.  
  
Then again, there were no other women but her. She was his equal in every way: intellectually, emotionally, practically and sensually. Every time one raised the ante, the other called; and in every case it was a push. He had many female friends, but in the end none could ever match up to Ruthie in any of the preceding respects, even if many of them were far more beautiful on the outside. It didn't matter: when it came to respect and on morals, Ruthie Camden won, hands down. Peter fell asleep, knowing that whatever a huge leap of faith marriage might be, he was making the right decision marrying Ruthie, and getting married now.  
  
Meanwhile, back at the Camdens, Lucy and Kevin had just finished making love. Lucy was just as nervous as any young woman could be the night before a wedding – her own or someone else's. Kevin's reassuring words and touch put her mind at ease; and as they fell asleep in each other's arms, the minister was determined not to let anything go wrong with her sister's wedding.  
  
She thought back to her own wedding day. With less than a couple of hours before the ceremony, she had gotten cold feet thinking a twenty-one year old divinity student had no business getting married before she had gotten her first charge as a Protestant minister – let alone to a Catholic divorcé who had survived his first marriage by the skin of his teeth. At the last minute, her older brother Matt came to the rescue saying that someone like Kevin was a once in a lifetime opportunity and she had to embrace the moment. Her turnaround was so enthusiastic that she had said "I do" even before her father had finished reading out the vows.  
  
Ruthie was now the fifth Camden sibling to get married, and by far the youngest, getting married at just eighteen. This would have been a concern for all her siblings, but especially her older ones. But Peter had been part of their lives for so long now that making his addition permanent seemed only natural. Lucy thought it was going to be great having yet another in-law she actually liked.  
  
The next morning, Lucy got up before Kevin did. Still naked, she stepped into the shower and starting washing up. As she reached for her hands, the unthinkable happened. Both her engagement and wedding rings fell to the bottom of the stall. Panicking, Lucy reached down. She managed to salvage both rings just in the nick of time. But as the minister put them back on and stepped out to dry off before anything else could happen, she thought it had to be a bad omen for her sister and future brother-in-law. For now, however, she decided she'd keep this to herself. 


	4. The Best Nights of their Lives

Chapter Four  
  
If one had walked by room 709 of the Glen Oak Suites Hotel at four in the morning the next day, he or she could have sworn that they had heard muffled screaming and moaning coming from inside.  
  
Ruthie and Peter had just tied the knot sixteen hours before, and after a memorable reception dinner, found their way to the honeymoon suite. They were catching up for the lost time they had been apart these last two years, and were now entering their fifth straight hour of making love.  
  
Inside, the new husband and wife finally drew apart and lay on their backs, totally exhausted but also in absolute ecstasy. It was a full five minutes before Ruthie firstly spoke.  
  
"You're so unbelievable, Peter!" she said. "If this is our first night as a married couple, I can't even imagine what the honeymoon will be like!"  
  
"Ruthie, honey," Peter replied, "like BTO once said, 'You ain't seen nothing yet!'"  
  
"No, sweetheart, I have seen everything, and we just about did everything tonight – and I do mean everything, even stuff we wouldn't have tried while we were dating."  
  
"I was waiting until tonight for that," said Peter. "I would only do that with the one woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And that's you, Ruthie Camden."  
  
"I love you so much, Peter Petrovsky!" said Ruthie. She wanted to roll over to Peter and make love with him yet again, but even he was spent by this time.  
  
Ruthie thought about her dream the previous night. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him about it or not, because she didn't want to ruin the most perfect day of her entire life. But one look in his drowsy eyes told her he must have had pretty much the same feelings too. At least they were both friends and lovers before they had gotten engaged, and were even more in love the moment Lucy recited the vows that they then repeated. But would have it made much difference, would have it been better, if they waited – really waited – for tonight, this night, to lose their innocence?  
  
Someone once sarcastically referred to non-virgins as "used merchandise," but Ruthie certainly didn't feel she was a slut – and Peter absolutely wasn't a gigolo. Still, she almost wished ... no, she didn't. Her thoughts immediately returned to their first night as lovers at that summer camp. It was after they surrendered their inexperience to each other that they had found out they were at the tip of the iceberg of a huge sex scandal, one that implicated a very distorted man with most of their friends, themselves and even Lucy – not to mention the man's sisters, son and daughter. Had they not done what they did, they might never have stumbled onto the scandal. Then again, the man might still be alive, still able to get away with his perversion.  
  
Ruthie checked the alarm clock. It was now almost 4:15. Their ride to the airport would be coming at nine. She decided to try to get a few winks – but knew that after a night like she had, she'd never be able to get any sleep.  
  
After a quick shower together a few hours later – something both really enjoyed because this had been their favorite way of having sex during their pre-courtship – Ruthie and Peter gathered their luggage, and took the ride to the airport. During the six hours over to Honolulu, the couple finally got the sleep they had missed out on the night before.  
  
They arrived ahead of schedule, and as per local custom, each were greeted with a bright yellow lei around their necks, the official color of the island of Oahu. (Each of the other islands of Hawaii was distinguished by different colors as well.) In honor of Ruthie's late grandfather, the Colonel, and their friends Rod and Shelby, they made their first stop the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. They marveled at the numerous memorial plaques donated by units from across America and around the world. Then a film about the attack on December 7, 1941, which had been remade several years before and made clear that the assault was not totally unprovoked after all; that an American oil embargo against Japan was just as much to blame, and that the Americans were the ones who fired the first shot. Ruthie knew this, of course, but had never dared to speak of it while her grandfather was still alive so as not to embarrass him.  
  
Then, a silent Navy sentry piloted Ruthie, Peter and a couple dozen other people by boat to the monument itself. The floating white memorial, placed perpendicular over the wreck, had seven windows on each of its sides and the top – representing a silent twenty-gun salute. On one wall were the names of the thousands of victims that horrid day. What really took the newlyweds aback, however, were three things. One: the Arizona was still leaking oil, after all these years. Two: while twenty-one Navy ships were sunk that day, eighteen were salvaged and sent back out to sea. Three: the "day of infamy" could have been much worse; for right next door were a line of oil storage containers. Each one large enough to hold a million and a half barrels of oil, pressurized at 350 pounds per square inch. Had the bombers remembered to hit just one of those upside-down bowls, the explosion – as the escort put it – would have been equal to twenty Hiroshima bombs. Honolulu, and even perhaps the neighboring islands of Lanai and Molokai, would have been flattened.  
  
That really made Ruthie and Peter shudder. It was worrisome enough to think that had the Japanese succeeded in making their foothold in the middle of the Pacific, the mainland of the United States and Canada would have been within strike range. But to think that Paradise itself had come that close to being blown to kingdom come was mind-boggling.  
  
Their feet back on terra firma once more – such that it was on an island – they hired a taxi and took the long drive through downtown and into the Waikiki district. It seemed like any other major bustling city on the West Coast, with several exceptions. One, they were actually 2500 miles away from the nearest cities, Los Angeles and San Francisco, separated totally by water – at least a three day trip by commercial freighter. Second, all the malls were open air, so rare was rain on this, the leeward side of the island. Third, they didn't hear a single honking horn anywhere – the taxi driver explained that it was illegal to do that in Hawaii except in case of an emergency. Fourth, explained the driver, the newlyweds were warned to stick to the restaurants, as food at the supermarkets were double the price or more than on the mainland since everything had to be shipped in from California by freighter.  
  
"Anything else?" asked Ruthie.  
  
"Yeah, two more things," said the driver. "Five: if you're looking to buy lottery tickets here, forget it. Like in Utah, gambling is illegal. You won't find a bingo hall, either. In fact, whenever a passenger ship comes within one hundred miles of Hawaiian waters, Customs boards the ship and seals up the slot machines."  
  
"You're kidding," said Peter flatly.  
  
"No, I'm not. Obviously, you're 'haoles,'" said the driver, pronouncing the word 'how-lee,' "what we call mainlanders, and if the 5-0 caught you with a ticket you carried over here, they wouldn't bother you. But if I or anyone else in this state went over to the Mainland, got a ticket, and brought it back here, and we got caught, we'd be in HUGE trouble."  
  
"And six?" asked Ruthie, as the driver slowed down along the main drag in Waikiki as she and Peter reached their hotel.  
  
"Beer and booze is pretty cheap here, more or less the same price as the mainland. And it tastes better too, because we brew it here with water from artesian wells we're right on top of. But if you're going to the stores for that, make sure you get it before 5 before midnight, because that's when they have to stop selling it. Not one minute later."  
  
Having stopped in front of the hotel, Ruthie and Peter were helped out by the driver, who then retrieved their luggage from the trunk. Giving him an extra tip for the local knowledge he imparted to the couple, Ruthie and Peter said "Mahalo," the Hawaiian word for "thank you."  
  
As soon as they hit their room, Peter and Ruthie were at it all over again. This time, the feelings Ruthie experienced were so intense that at one point, she felt a familiar gnawing feeling in her abdomen, the scratching sensation she often had when she was just about to start that time of the month every woman experiences – the two or three day period ideal to conceive a child. Ruthie knew instantly when that happened that they had just gotten pregnant. She could ask for no better husband or a better father to her child, than Peter. Peter had a feeling something was up with his wife when she drew him in even closer, but couldn't quite place it.  
  
They fell asleep just after midnight, but were awoken by screams next door. Must be newlyweds too, they thought, and they would have been correct in that presumption: this was the honeymoon floor, all with double size suites, extra large saunas, showers, and everything else a freshly minted couple would want. Shrugging, they fell asleep, still naked but now in each other's arms.  
  
They awoke the next morning when room service knocked on their door. Ruthie put on her housecoat, yawning a little and grumbling that their wakeup call should have come first; then remembering that breakfast was served early too. As she tipped the porter, she looked next door where the screaming had come from. Her eyes widened.  
  
"PETER!?!" Ruthie screamed.  
  
Peter scrambled out of the bed, slipped on his housecoat, and joined his wife. He saw it too. There was yellow tape across the front of the door, totally covered in blood. Under it, two stretchers were being pulled out, white sheets over each of the bodies: one male, one female.  
  
Ruthie Camden and Peter Petrovsky looked at each other nervously. They had hoped to have breakfast in bed, then a bout of "morning glory" before going on a tour round the island of Oahu. Now, their appetite for nutrition, and each other, had totally dissipated. 


	5. Island Tour to Hell

Chapter Five  
  
It was with a heavy heart that Ruthie and Peter had breakfast in their hotel room. In no mood to have sex, they passed on having it in bed and instead had it on the desk adjacent to their oceanfront window. They had no idea of the names or hometown of the unlucky couple who had been murdered on their honeymoon. They could only think of the hopes and dreams the young man and woman had in the years and months before they got married, and the sweet nothings they would have whispered to each other as they were making love – only to be followed by the futile pleadings of thoroughly frightened newlyweds as they were stabbed, or shot, to death. To make matters worse, of all places, one of the most romantic cities in the world.  
  
Breakfast completed, each took a shower – separately – and boarded the tour bus that was waiting to escort them around the island. On it were several couples, young and old, as well as a couple of families. At the back were two empty seats, and adjacent to them sat Rod and Shelby.  
  
"Hey guys!" said Ruthie, almost completely putting the horror out of her mind. "What a nice surprise."  
  
"Good morning, Peter – Ruthie," said Rod. "We heard. Man, what a shock that must have been for you two."  
  
"Yeah," said Peter, as he and his wife took their seats and the bus starting rolling eastward through Millionaire's Row en route to Diamond Head. "The worst thing is, we don't even know who they are."  
  
"You do, actually – we all do," said Shelby sadly.  
  
"Who?" asked Ruthie.  
  
"You mean you didn't watch the morning news?" asked Rod.  
  
"Don't they withhold identification, pending notification of the next of kin?" wondered Ruthie.  
  
"They were already notified."  
  
"So who were they?"  
  
"It was your ex-boyfriend, Jake Davis, and his wife, Suzanne Sanders."  
  
"Get out!" Peter said.  
  
"It's true," said Rod.  
  
"That's crazy," said Ruthie, shaking. "Suzanne is the same age as Luce. Jake is Peter's and my age."  
  
"You mean you don't know how they met?"  
  
Ruthie and Peter shook their heads.  
  
"After you and Jake broke up, Ruthie," said Rod, "he relocated to the same town where Suzanne moved a few years back. They never really met until his junior prom, when he was so desperate for a date he asked a family friend of his back in Glen Oak – Shelby – to set him up on a blind date. She got him Suzanne. Incredibly, they hit it off right away."  
  
"Don't tell me they ..." began Peter, but Shelby shook her head.  
  
"They didn't have sex until just before school started last year, but by that time they were already engaged," said Shelby sadly. She wiped a tear from her eye. "I can't believe they're dead – and – and what an awful way to die, too."  
  
The bus made its way around the entire island, through Diamond Head, past the set of "Magnum PI," by the Mormon Temple and an abandoned windmill project, past the Banzai Pipeline (a longtime favorite of surfers), and then a stop in an actual tropical rain forest. The tour ended with a layover at a pineapple plantation, then back downtown. While the four managed to talk about a lot of other things on their mind, they couldn't help but bring their conversation back to the night before.  
  
The military hotel was at the extreme western edge of Waikiki, and it was here that Rod and Shelby got off. But they invited Ruthie and Peter to join them for dinner at a buffet in the center of the resort one hour later, so they could talk some more.  
  
Back at their own room, Peter and Ruthie had a "quickie" before dinner. But this time, it seemed almost mechanical, totally lacking any passion. During those few minutes, Peter told his wife that it took him most of the day, but he finally figured out that they were going to become parents. Ruthie, relieved, told her husband she was more in love with him now than ever.  
  
Rushing to put their clothes on, they met up with Rod and Shelby just in the nick of time. The latter couple then said they had a surprise for their friends; that they finally figured out what unique gift to give to Peter and Ruthie, but didn't come around to at the reception. A taxi then pulled up, and the four got in.  
  
The ride took them to a genuine luau. Ruthie and Peter were both stunned and delighted. They had planned on taking in such an event during their vacation, a Hawaiian version of a New England clambake, but this was so much better. At the end, the young newlyweds promised their friends they'd return the favor sometime during the next couple of weeks, for they were to be there as long as Rod and Shelby.  
  
The next morning, Ruthie and Peter went down to the hotel spa. Since they knew with almost certainty that they were pregnant, they decided to spend the day exfoliating. Between breaks, they managed to have one quickie after another. It was a wonder they weren't getting caught, but the risk make them all the friskier.  
  
As they left the spa after a long day, the two decided to go shopping. They had gotten gifts from almost everyone they could imagine, and their registry lists had been exhausted. The only question now was what gifts to get each other. Ruthie, having had a part time job during the senior year, had a fair amount of money to spend for this one present. Peter, of course, was stacked with tons of cash from his inheritance. But he wanted to be prudent.  
  
Their answer came when they stumbled into a boutique at the main shopping mall in Honolulu. Ruthie's eyes wandered over to one counter. There they were, matching his and hers platinum watches, with kinetic movements. The only problem: they cost over $2000 each. One counter over from there, Peter saw an absolutely spectacular diamond tennis bracelet – price, over $10,000.  
  
"We'll take them!" they both said, paying cash.  
  
That night, the two made love like they never had before. They were convinced that neither set of their parents had ever been that excited, more exuberant, than they were at that moment.  
  
Their passion lasted through to the next morning, when totally exhausted from an all-nighter; they had breakfast in the restaurant downstairs: Eggs benedict, sausage, Canadian bacon, a fruit bowl and genuine Hawaiian coffee. As they went up to their floor, their hearts sank. Four doors down from their suite, they saw the 5-0 putting up police tape around that door. They would later learn it was Lucy's one time friend, Laurie, and her husband, an Army Corps of Engineers graduate. Ruthie and Peter considered asking to change suites, but decided to try one more night before making that decision. 


	6. Military Mugging

Chapter Six  
  
Ruthie and Peter finally did change suites the next day; and ironically the next day and for several days after that, absolutely nothing happened. No more murders happened in their hotel or any other hotel in Honolulu. Thinking they might have been jinxing the other newlyweds in the building, the couple decided to abstain from sex and instead take in some more sights in and around the island; including Chinatown, the Bishop Estate and the Polynesian Cultural Center. They figured they needed the mental exercise, and for what it was worth, they had tanned faster in their first three days in Oahu than they normally did an entire summer in California.  
  
Finally, well into the second week of their honeymoon, their insatiable appetite for each other reached the boiling point. They decided to spend an entire day in their suite, totally undressed and making love with each other over and over; breaking only for the room service deliveries for breakfast, lunch and supper.  
  
At around eleven that night, totally exhausted and spent, the couple finally fell asleep in each others' arms. Just five minutes later, a persistent knocking was heard at the door. But Ruthie and Peter didn't wake up.  
  
The knocking became louder and more urgent. Still the two, completely bushed from their shared passion, didn't respond.  
  
Finally, Ruthie stirred, and heard the beat which had now become a pounding.  
  
"Oh all right, all right!" Ruthie shouted, as she put on her housecoat. Oddly for her, she checked her ring finger to make sure her engagement ring and wedding band were still there, the first time she had done so since the wedding reception.  
  
She set aside the secondary latch, turned the deadbolt, and opened the door. Outside were several members of the Honolulu City and County Police, and a Military Police official.  
  
"Good evening, Ms Camden," said the MP. "We regret the disturbance at this late hour, but we need you to accompany us to Tripler Army Medical Center."  
  
"Why?" asked Ruthie.  
  
By this time, Peter had awoken. He too had gotten out of bed and put on his housecoat.  
  
"There was a stabbing at the military hotel," said the MP. "Two of your friends, Lance Corporal Shelby Connor, and Lieutenant Rod Parker, were mugged after returning from an evening of shopping at a high-end department store."  
  
"Oh God!" screamed Ruthie. "Not them, too?"  
  
"They're okay, ma'am," said one of the 5-0 calmly. "But they took some very bad stab wounds from a stiletto, and they're really shaken up. The SVU is over at Tripler right now, as is JAG. We need you to come down there, and give a statement about everything that you know right now. Then, the Parkers would like you to see them. They're saying they won't say anything until you see them."  
  
"Why us?" asked Peter. "Why not their families?"  
  
"It's two in the morning on the West Coast, Mr. Petrovsky," pointed out the cop. "Detective Michaels has gotten in touch with the next of kin already, and they'll be on their way as soon as day breaks in Los Angeles."  
  
"Give us two minutes," said Peter, and quickly shut the door behind him.  
  
He and his wife quickly stripped off their housecoats. Peter grabbed his boxers and put them on, followed by khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Ruthie put on her panties and a cotton skirt. She forwent her bra and put on only a print t-shirt over her bosom. Peter retrieved his wallet and one of the electronic room keys. Ruthie got her purse and the other key. They ran out the door, which locked itself as it was designed to do. It had taken them less than the two minutes Peter had promised. In fact, it was a mere 52 seconds.  
  
With the military and civilian cops leading the way, Ruthie took her husband's hand as the elevator door opened for the rapid trip downstairs to the lobby, where a military transport was waiting to escort them. As she and Peter hopped into the HUMVEE and the jalopy pulled away for the drive to the west side of town, Ruthie found her mind a total whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. As she would later learn, Peter was running a similar gamut of feelings.  
  
"First Jake and Suzanne, then Laurie and Paul, and now Shelby and Rod," thought Ruthie. "This is absolutely nuts! Why them? And the modus operandi for each of the killings or attempts was different. The first couple was shot, the second was hacked to death with a machete, and now someone tried to kill Shelby and Rod with a knife. Does someone have a vendetta against Dad and Lucy and the people they've tried to help? Why not go after them instead? It'd make a lot more sense.  
  
"Come to think of it ... oh, no, not now ..." Ruthie thought. Her body at that moment decided to go through the monthly cycle she had come to dread so much but knew was an integral part of womanhood. "I'm not pregnant after all. Peter's going to be so disappointed! But maybe it's a good thing. We're going to college in only a few weeks, and we just don't have time to raise a kid, as much as I'd like to be a mom again. At least I know the son I was going to have but died inside of me before he had a chance is in Heaven now. And he'll be the guardian angel for my son and daughter, when that time comes."  
  
Peter was looking at his wife. One look on her face and he knew, too, that he wasn't going to be a father after all either.  
  
"Maybe Ruthie had a very aggressive cycle this month, so she tricked herself into thinking she and Peter had conceived another baby," he told himself. "Well, I'm disappointed too, but at least that's one less thing to worry about going into school this fall. But on the way home, I'm going to make sure that she's still on the Pill; or if not, get her back on it right away.  
  
"But I know what Ruthie's thinking too, and it doesn't make sense either. Why them? Why not us? And aren't all the hotels in Waikiki supposed to have electronic locks? How could anyone break into the rooms without them? Nothing was stolen from either of the first two couples, who died in their suites. And sure, they were trying to mug Shelby and Rod; but wouldn't it have been suicide to attack them? They have special ops training, as well as martial arts.  
  
"This has to be an inside job," Peter went on inside his head. "They do make master keys for the cleaning staff and the managers, but they're reprogrammed every day as guests leave and check in. The locks too, are reprogrammed so that someone who's supposed to have checked out doesn't return to the same suite without paying.  
  
"Why hasn't Detective Michaels called? Why didn't he call as soon as the first murder happened? Why hasn't any of Ruthie's family called? Do they want to leave us in the abyss? Will we be next?"  
  
Peter and Ruthie's ride was now approaching Tripler, the largest hospital in the United States. They looked at each other. Sparks were flying between their eyes, but they didn't do anything, not even hug, as that seemed totally inappropriate at this moment in time. But the two knew each other had the same question for the other spouse at that moment: "Are we too young for marriage? Did we make a mistake in tying the knot now rather than waiting until after college?"  
  
And more ominously, they wondered why today, during all that time they were one human being, did they think of other people? For Ruthie, it was fantasies of Brad Pitt and Justin Timberlake. For Peter, it was dreams of Kate Winslet and Cindy Crawford.  
  
The SUV pulled up to the security checkpoint, then to the front door of the huge complex. Rod and Shelby were in bandages at the triage unit. To say they were in shock was an understatement; they had in the last hour or so, in fact, past in and out of catatonia.  
  
The sight of Peter and Ruthie, however, finally made them snap out of it. They wanted to hug their friends but were warned by the doctor in charge to stay put while their wounds were redressed yet again.  
  
"Man, it's so good to see you guys!" Shelby finally said. Her normally reassured tone was absent; instead, it was the nervous young girl that Ruthie first met years before, a girl who only wanted dinner with the Camdens because she didn't have enough to eat at home.  
  
"What happened?" asked Peter.  
  
"Damned if we know," said Rod, who was finally handed a pair of crutches by one of the nurse practitioners. He stood up, and it was obvious that he was limping severely. "We were on our way back to the hotel – in fact, we were just walking up the driveway to the security checkpoint – when a guy in a ski mask came up from behind us and started stabbing us."  
  
"Didn't the MP on point duty there do anything?" asked Ruthie. "He must have seen something – or the whole thing happening."  
  
"He was just directing traffic, and there were a lot of tour buses dropping off other military families who were out on evening tours to Chinatown and Pearl," said Shelby. "His view would have been obscured. We don't know what happened – it was so fast. The guy hits Rod with a crowbar and gave him some stab wounds in the leg as he fell to the ground. Then, while my husband was out, I got dragged behind a palm tree. I was fighting like crazy, but I think the mugger injected me with some kind of drug or something because I passed out. The doctors tell me that in the ten minutes I was unconscious, I was raped."  
  
Shelby Connor was saying this so matter-of-factly that she could have been reciting a novel. She was making it sound like almost as if it was no big deal. But Rod, Ruthie and Peter knew she was suffering horribly.  
  
"Are you okay? Who found you?" asked Peter.  
  
"Another couple, who live here full time, taking a long walk along the main tourist drag back to their home in Waikiki. They saw my leg from behind the tree and called 911 on their cell phone. By that time, I came to and so did Rod, thank God."  
  
Ruthie thought she was going to get sick. A rape was bad enough under any circumstances. But for a bride to get attacked by someone on her honeymoon – whether it was her husband or not – was unfathomable.  
  
"So now what?" she finally asked.  
  
"We're going to be here all night, while the cops ask us all questions," said Rod. "Come morning, when Shelby and I check out, we'll all be under constant surveillance. Both our rooms."  
  
"Who do you think is behind this?" asked Peter.  
  
"Damned if I know," said Shelby. "But we're just like you guys: we want to find out, and soon – before anyone else gets hurt. You included."  
  
Shelby couldn't take it anymore. She sank back into a chair and started sobbing uncontrollably, as a doctor empathetically handed her a glass of water and the morning-after pill.  
  
Ruthie and Peter followed the cops to a nearby room to begin their end of the interrogation. Ruthie started to cry too, as if it had happened to her. Her husband handed her his handkerchief. He couldn't help wiping a tear from his eye, too. 


	7. The Argument

Chapter Seven  
  
When Ruthie and Peter learned mid-morning the next day that the flight from Los Angeles carrying many members of the gang had been delayed due to fog, the couple wasn't entirely surprised. Their own flight had been slightly delayed as well, but the trade winds made sure their plane arrived well ahead of schedule.  
  
Not sure how to while away the extra hours, they decided to watch an in- room movie. Ruthie had suggested a romantic comedy, but Peter "accidentally" pressed the wrong button and the two wound up watching an erotic film instead.  
  
By the time it was over an hour and a half later, Ruthie and Peter were having a shared laughing fit: She, because she couldn't help but pity the pathetic ways those women were trying to get beautiful and get some; he, because he wanted to help his wife relax after such a trying night; and both, because the situations in the film were so ridiculous that no couple would ever try duplicating it for real.  
  
The movie, however, made the couple real passionate. With it just about time for maid service, Ruthie quietly hanged the "Do Not Disturb" sign outside the door and turned off the phone ringer. She then returned to her husband on their bed. Reaching into the bedside drawer, she pulled out something she had hidden in her luggage just before their flight out to Hawaii – a pair of blindfolds. She slipped the first one on herself, then the other over Peter's eyes. They very slowly undressed each other and made passionate love to each other. Being totally in the dark while this was going on finally did the trick for them, for this time they put their absolute trust in each other to the effect that they fantasized only about each other, for the very first time. This hadn't happened even when they had lost their innocence at the summer camp several years before.  
  
Three hours later, the two finally parted and took off their blindfolds. Ruthie and Peter were at the mid-point between full adrenaline and total exhaustion. But finally, after more than three years of being lovers, they had finally, truly accepted each other as equals. This was now the true beginning of their marriage, the moment they had consummated their relationship not only physically but emotionally and spiritually as well.  
  
Still on an emotional high, they took a bath together and continued their passion for another hour. Finally, around 1:30, they finally got dressed, headed downstairs, and walked down the street three blocks to an open-air buffet. As they chose their main courses and sat at their assigned table, Ruthie knotted her brow slightly.  
  
"You know, honey," she told her husband, "at the rate things are going, it's going to take the cops weeks, even months, before there's a break in this case. By that time, there could be a whole bunch of people attacked, even murdered."  
  
"And by that point," added Peter, "no one will want to vacation here anymore, or even live here. It's bad enough in Florida and some parts of our home California. But why should we worry about it, Ruthie? We have another two and a half weeks left on our honeymoon; and as soon as we get back we're going to have start packing for our new home in Los Angeles. You're my wife, and the last thing I need is my spouse to get hot and bothered about something we can do nothing about."  
  
"You're not listening to me, Peter," said Ruthie, putting down her fork carefully and looking at Peter square in his eyes. "We can do something about this. To this point, everyone who's been killed or attacked here are friends of ours or my siblings. We need to go through everything and everyone we know, toss out the alibis, and come up with a list of suspects; and motives."  
  
"But sweetie," said Peter, "that could take forever. Practically every friend of Eric's and Lucy's is a friend of ours. We won't have any time to ... you know ..."  
  
"I'd rather not have sex and save some face than have sex and see more of our friends die!" snapped Ruthie.  
  
"We're supposed to be using this honeymoon to get used to the idea of living together, and getting better acquainted with each other," countered Peter, his voice rising.  
  
"Oh, it's not like we already had sex about fifty times or so before you proposed to me," rejoined Ruthie, her voice getting louder also. "And you've lived at my home for the last year!"  
  
"But we haven't lived alone, just the two of us," said Peter, who was now standing up, and clenching his fists by his sides. It was all he could do to avoid physically lashing out at his wife. "And for what it's worth, the moment the 5-0 gets a whiff that we're doing their job, we're going to get busted on an obstruction charge."  
  
"Obstruction of what?" said Ruthie angrily, now standing up and facing her husband eye to eye and toe to toe. "This maniac, whoever he is, has obstructed the married lives of some of the most decent people we know. Need I remind you, Peter that two of our friends are just now getting out of Tripler with arm slings and gauzes; and two more couples who have been on ice the last few days in the morgue are only now being loaded into a refrigerated plane and shipped back to the Mainland for burial? The real obstruction is disturbing our peace of mind, alienating our affection for each other and threatening our very lives! Now, I'm going back to our suite and putting on my trench coat. Whether you want to join me or not is entirely your business."  
  
Ruthie turned to a waitress walking by. She laid a $10 in her hand. "Separate checks, and keep the change!" She stormed out.  
  
Peter slowly sat down. He knew that he and his love would eventually have an argument at some point in their marriage, but he never could have imagined it would be so early on their honeymoon. Whatever was eating Ruthie Camden he couldn't figure what it was. But he calmed down enough to realize that maybe she was right. He decided to pass on dessert, paid the waitress his bill, and took the short walk back to his hotel and their reassigned suite.  
  
As soon as he slipped his card in and opened the door, he said, "Sorry Ruthie."  
  
"Forget it," said his wife. "Okay, while I was waiting for you, I put together as many people as I could think of. We'll need to go through them one by one and figure out where they are and if they have anything against us."  
  
"Let me look at that," said Peter. "I might be able to come up with some names you missed."  
  
It would have been an odd sight to the outside observer peering in. Just a few hours before, this newlywed couple had experienced the kind of passion that only Adam and Eve would have known the first time they encountered each other. Now, here was Ruthie and Peter all business, as if they were just casual business acquaintances and their marriage was strictly one of legal convenience.  
  
Meanwhile, twelve miles to the west, a 767 was landing at the landing strip shared by Honolulu International Airport and Hickam AFB. The parents of Shelby and Rod were going through an agriculture inspection, as was Detective Michaels. So was Lucy, who stubbornly insisted on coming along so she could see her sister; as did Roxanne. Kevin was back in California, doing pretty much what Ruthie and Peter were doing right now – doing research.  
  
He also was biting his lip as he did so; for the previous night, he and Roxanne had betrayed both their spouses and had an affair. They had gotten the call about Rod and Shelby just moments after the cops had reached climax. Kevin felt absolutely guilty for doing what he had done, and he was sure Roxie felt the same away about betraying Chandler, too. He would tell Lucy the truth as soon as she came back; but duty called first.  
  
Meanwhile, back in Hawaii, Rod and Shelby's parents were shocked to learn that the newlyweds had taken the first flight back to the Mainland as soon as they had been discharged. They weren't going to take any chances with their luck again; they decided to spend the rest of their time at the Grand Canyon, and had left written instructions to their respective parents to leave them be.  
  
On the other side of town, Lucy's reunion with her sister and brother-in- law was bittersweet. After hugs all around, Peter took Michaels aside to go over what he and Ruthie had in the hopes it might help the investigation. At the same time, Lucy asked Ruthie if she could confide a secret. Ruthie said yes.  
  
With a terse whisper, Lucy told her sister, "I cheated on Kevin last month. Chandler and slept together while Kevin and Roxie were on a night shift."  
  
Ruthie was horrified. On top of everything else that had happened, she didn't need to hear that. 


	8. Selective Salvation

Chapter Eight  
  
Ruthie took her older sister by her arm, quickly dragged her into the walk- in closet, slammed the door and turned on the light.  
  
"Excuse me?" she said. "You and Chandler had sex?"  
  
Lucy bit her lip, and then nodded. Obviously this was not something she was proud of, but she couldn't hold it any longer.  
  
"What happened?" demanded Ruthie.  
  
"Chandler and Roxanne invited us over for dinner at the deacon's residence at Crawford, but at the last minute she and Kevin got called in for SWAT duty. So it was just Chandler and me, talking shop. Our conversation somehow got into the subject of 'intelligent design.'"  
  
"You mean the crap the anti-evolutionists have come up with in the last few years?" snorted Ruthie. "You can't give a scientific basis for creation science, because it isn't science at all! Intelligent design is just a way of repackaging creationism. You don't have to fill me in on the details of how it's supposed to work, because Peter and I did a project in biology debunking the whole thing. For what it's worth, most mainline churches – even ours – accept the fact that evolution is a perfectly acceptable explanation for the biblical story of Creation in Genesis."  
  
"I agree," said Lucy, "as does Mom and Dad. But you can imagine my amazement when Chandler said he looked at the research and bought it completely. I tried to fire back anything and everything I could think of to make him talk sense, to realize that intelligent design could be as implausible as Darwinism. That there might be no answer at all – that it's one of God's great mysteries. What started as point counterpoint turned into a shouting match. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I said I had enough, slapped him in the face, and turned to leave."  
  
"You hit him?" Ruthie was surprised. "That doesn't sound like you."  
  
"No, it doesn't," agreed Lucy. "But as I finished turning and grabbed my purse, he grabbed my arm. I hit him again to try to make him let me go. But at that very moment, we locked eyes with each other. Two seconds later, I jumped into his arms and was all over him, necking him like crazy. He ripped off my blouse and skirt, I attacked his clothes, and in less than a minute we were having sex on his dining room table. It was like all the tension that had been building up between us for years just – poured out."  
  
"You do realize you were cheating on Kevin."  
  
"I know, but truth is he and I haven't had sex in months. The passion's been gone almost since – I don't know, Christmas. We've been spending time together, but that's it; just tolerating each other's existence."  
  
"Not to mention that you're still jealous of Roxanne," added Ruthie.  
  
"Yeah, that too. A couple of nights back, when he was musing about what a great job that Roxanne had done, again, I just lashed out and told Kevin if he liked her so much, he could have her!"  
  
"You didn't."  
  
"I did."  
  
"Are you and Kevin breaking up?"  
  
"No," said Lucy. "I'm going to tell him the truth when I get back and try to work things out with him. But I'm also going to have to explain myself to the deacons. I'm probably going to have to plead with them not to fire me, but then again Dad taught me a lot of pointers on how to deal with the church politics."  
  
"I presume that's not the only reason why you and Michaels are here," said Ruthie, after a long pause.  
  
"No," said Lucy. "I've got a hunch as to who might be behind these killings and attempts. Michaels and Peter are going over it right now, too."  
  
"What's your theory?" asked Ruthie, intrigued.  
  
"Remember the time when the car I fixed for Matt got stolen by a pregnant girl, and when our parents tracked down her parents, they promptly disowned her?"  
  
"That was pathetic. That girl – Theresa, was that her name – well, she needed help, and they were denying their own grandchild!"  
  
"Well, I've done my homework, and they belong to a, shall we say, very radical Puritanical group that hounds anyone and everyone for the slightest faux pas they may have committed in the past. They stop at nothing to find any skeletons in the closet of anyone running for office or applying for a job."  
  
"What does have to do with these murders?"  
  
"Kevin, Roxanne and I have reason to believe they're committing them."  
  
"What proof do you have, other than the fact they have an axe to grind against us?" Ruthie asked. "If you're wrong, you'll have some 'splainin' to do."  
  
"That's exactly why they're doing it, or at least that's what we think." Lucy shrugged. "See, they can't stand the fact that our family – the Camdens – is committed to helping the community. They, and people like them, think that there are some sins that can't be forgiven, by humans or by God. We ministers who have nothing but contempt for the more radical televangelists and their followers, like Theresa's parents, have a name for them. Well, a bunch of names, including hypocrites and jerks.  
  
"Personally, I have my own name for them – the 'Selective Salvationists.' That is, salvation is a free gift from God to whomever accepts it as divine grace; but if you've had premarital sex, are gay, lesbian or transgender, have committed a serious crime, or make friends with Muslims – just to name a few things – you can't be saved, no matter what. Moreover, if you associate with people like that, you lose your salvation."  
  
"I don't approve of people like that," said Ruthie, "any more than you do. As Dad once told Simon, narrow minded people are in point of fact cultists, isolating themselves from the community. We embrace all people even if we don't agree with them or condone their behavior."  
  
"Precisely," said Lucy.  
  
"So why kill those poor people on their honeymoon?"  
  
"It's perfect," said Lucy. "Bludgeon them in their moment of happiness, and intimidate both you and Peter."  
  
"Just a minute," said Ruthie in exasperation, waving her hand. "What did Rod and Shelby do to deserve being attacked? At least, in Theresa's parents' view?"  
  
"Just the fact we helped them out at some point in time. Oh, and of course, the fact Rod was mad at his father when his mother died, and Shelby because she was hungry."  
  
"That's nuts!" Ruthie said. "Rod had every right to be mad at his father for not taking care of his wife – leaving him to do it all. As for Shelby, hunger is not a sin. So what if her mother was unemployed?"  
  
"In the minds of people like that," said Lucy, "it is a sin. 'Work ethic,' my ass. I think the Bible made it rather clear that to get into heaven, we have to help others in need."  
  
"But Jake and Suzanne? Laurie and Paul? What did they do to deserve getting killed?"  
  
"Just the fact we helped all of them," said Lucy. "I know, it's crazy. Why not go after Mom and Dad, or Kevin and me? Not to boast or anything, but we've done so much more to help them and other members of the community. That's not to say you and Peter have done a lot; you have."  
  
Ruthie mulled this over. Then a thought cropped into her mind.  
  
"Are your suspects any relation to Frank Henderson?"  
  
"Not that we've been able to find out," said Lucy. "Even if they were, they've done a good job covering their tracks. They never spend a night in the same place. And they're too smart to do these themselves; they're probably using friends of theirs in the 'movement' to do the dirty work."  
  
There was a knock on the closet door.  
  
"Are you finished, ladies?" asked Michaels. "Peter and I have to go over some things with you."  
  
The door swung open. Ruthie and Lucy walked out.  
  
"So I presume you've been told everything, Peter," said Ruthie to her husband. "Yeah," he told his wife. "But I told the cop here to look into something."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I don't think Theresa's parents would be dumb enough to just send e-mails to their hit people here in Hawaii," said Peter. "I think they're sharing a web-based account – Yahoo, MSN or AIM – with someone here and just leaving messages, in code, in draft folders so they can be read later on. That's how James Kopp, the abortion sniper, was able to stay on the run for so long and how they eventually got him."  
  
"They wouldn't use their names on the account," said Lucy.  
  
"But they might be using Theresa's, as a veneer; so they could pin the blame on her."  
  
"We have to get in touch with her!" exclaimed Ruthie.  
  
"Way ahead of you, Ruthie," said Michaels. "She's a cop, too – in fact, she works in the enforcement division of the EPA. We, and the 5-0 here, told the EPA what we think's going on. They've been after Theresa's parents, too, for some environmental violations – spilling bulk oil into a lake, I think it is. But when we do get enough evidence to link them to these crimes, the EPA will second her to go in and make the arrest herself."  
  
"She – arrest her own parents?" Ruthie chuckled. "That will be sweet justice."  
  
"For now, we're moving the two of you to a safe location on the island. Can't tell you where it is till we get there."  
  
"And Lucy?" wondered Peter.  
  
"Well," said Lucy, "I'm kind of familiar with computer code, so I'm going downtown to help the cops go through the draft e-mails on which the FBI has put a tap. Because, even though they might be routed through a mainframe, we can get the IP address narrowing the location from which they're coming. If we do that, we can get a location both on our suspects, and those helping them."  
  
"Please be careful," said Ruthie. "We can't afford to lose you, too."  
  
"Don't worry, I will be," said Lucy.  
  
Ruthie and Peter gathered their bags, reluctantly. When they reached the car to take them to their new hotel, they realized it was pointed towards the airport.  
  
"What's this all about?" asked Peter.  
  
"You're going to spend a couple of nights in Maui," said the undercover officer. "You'll be under constant guard, and under assumed names to ensure your protection. So have a happy honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Alcatraz."  
  
"Alcatraz?" asked Peter.  
  
"I was conceived there," said Ruthie. "Remember?" 


	9. The Unusual Suspects

Chapter Nine  
  
At Honolulu International Airport, Ruthie and Peter were getting ready to board a commuter plane for the short flight to Maui. Just before they went on the plane, Ruthie called Lucy – who was sorting through computer code with Roxanne, Michaels and the 5-0 – at the police station.  
  
"You lied to me, Luce," Ruthie said when Lucy answered, taking the call in a broom closet adjacent to the command center.  
  
"What are you talking about?" said Lucy, shocked.  
  
"You told me that you and Kevin haven't had sex in months. That's not true. Ever since you and Chandler did it, you've had sex every night with Kevin to compensate for your mistake. I know, because a few days before Peter and I got married, we decided to make out in the garage. We were feeling each other up, grabbing each other's crotches under our clothes. As we brought each other to climax, I saw some dust falling from the ceiling between the garage and your apartment. You must have been having some pretty rough sex with him that night."  
  
"Well, you're right," conceded Lucy. "But there was a reason for that. I think I might be pregnant again, and I want to make sure it's Kevin's baby and not Chandler's."  
  
"You mean you don't know?" asked Ruthie, shocked.  
  
"I'm not even sure if I am ... but I know I'm a couple of days late."  
  
"So it could be Chandler's. My God, Lucy, what were you thinking?"  
  
"I don't know," said Lucy, bursting into tears. "I couldn't help myself. But it's Chandler who's in denial. He hasn't told Roxanne about it. Far as he's concerned, since I was on top of him, I serviced him – not the other way around."  
  
"Is that what his definition of 'is,' is?" Ruthie asked rhetorically.  
  
"That's something you're going to have to ask Chandler – or Roxie."  
  
"Are you going to tell her?"  
  
"I think she knows; otherwise, why else would she have wanted to come here?" Lucy sighed. "Look, Ruthie, I'd love to talk to you, but Roxie and I really need to deal with the other fish. Have a nice time in Maui, and please, listen to what the cops say. Stay low. In fact, stay in your room the whole time – and you and Peter make a baby. I've given you a couple of nieces and a nephew, now it's your turn!"  
  
"We'll see. Love you, sis."  
  
Ruthie hung up the phone. Squeezing her husband's hand in a meaningful way, they handed their boarding passes to the agent and loaded the plane.  
  
Meanwhile, Lucy discussed her theory about who was behind the serial killings. Roxanne listened patiently, as Lucy went through the details of how each of her friends came into her life, how her family helped them, and how each of the respective couples ended up getting together. She also tried to tie the stories together, suggesting a link. When she had finished, Roxanne took a minute to process the story. Finally, she shook her head.  
  
"I'm sorry, Lucy," said Roxie. "I consider you a friend and all, and what you say is plausible to a point. But there's something about it that's just not right."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Lucy. "Other than one or two other people, who check out because they have alibis, this is the only one that makes sense."  
  
"Listen to me, Luce," said Roxie. "I appreciate your putting on your gumshoes, as well as your sister and brother-in-law. Sometimes, the craziest explanations are the simplest. I've learned that being a cop all this time. But for your theory to work, Theresa's parents would have to be so full of hate and anger at the world that they'd make people like a high school shooter look good. They disowned their daughter. And the member of your family who helped her the most was your brother, Matt. If they had a vendetta, they'd take it out on him and Sarah – not on Ruthie and Peter."  
  
"So why would they use their daughter's name for e-mail?" asked Lucy.  
  
"They're wanted for environmental crimes. The anti-environmental movement has its own underground railroad, as does the radical anti-abortion cause and the so-called 'Common Law Courts.' In fact, these anarchists have a lot of linkages between them, and are quite sympathetic to people like Osama bin Laden. Using their daughter's name is perfect for the reason you suggested to Ruthie – to make her take the fall – but we're taking malfeasance here. Not a class one felony like murder or attempted murder."  
  
"So what's your theory?"  
  
"I have a feeling it's someone else you've crossed paths with. Obviously, I don't know everyone you know, but I'm going to need you to give me a list of all the people you know. And, I do mean all of them. Kevin and I have gone through the usual suspects, but they've all come up clean."  
  
"And who were the usual suspects?" Lucy raised her brow.  
  
"Well, we started with Jimmy Moon," said Roxanne. "It can't be him, because he just finished his sentence for armed robbery. He's in a half- way house outside of Glen Oak finishing drug rehab, and he's sworn never to get into the wrong crowd again. So he checks out."  
  
"Who else?"  
  
"Jordan Johansson. He's got a basketball scholarship at MIT. Mike Pearce – he and that girl you set him up with, um ..."  
  
"Elaina Casey," helped Lucy. "The one with the huge acne problem – she and Mike hit it off pretty well, as I recall."  
  
"Extremely well," agreed Roxanne. "They had sex a year after they started dating. They're happily married now, have two kids, and they live in Vermont."  
  
Lucy was going through some names in her head. The next one seemed preposterous, but ...  
  
"Wilson West?"  
  
"He and Corey Conway are also happily married. Wilson Jr. – the little guy you all called Billy – and Bernadette are crazy for each other, which says something given they're stepsiblings. Corey's expecting another child, a boy, in the fall."  
  
"Jeremy?"  
  
"He's a firefighter with FDNY. He signed up the day after 9/11."  
  
"Married?'  
  
"He's living common-law – with your rival from high school, Ashley."  
  
"No," Lucy said, "Ashley, as in Serena's daughter?!"  
  
"That's the one."  
  
"Who would've imagined those two?"  
  
"Stranger things have happened." Roxanne paused for effect, as if trying to tell Lucy something. But Lucy didn't get it.  
  
"Okay, getting back to Theresa. Let's suppose you're right," said Lucy, "and her parents aren't the ones doing this. Why use an account in her name – and this time, Roxie, think hard."  
  
"Maybe someone else is using her name as a front," admitted Roxanne. "But who would it be? And why her name?"  
  
Lucy reached for a pile of e-mail hard copies, with the addressing information revealed. She noticed a large block of 'to' and 'from' IP addresses, all of which seemed to emanate from similar locations over and over again. She pointed this out to Roxanne.  
  
Roxanne signaled to Michaels, who in turned called for a 5-0. The 5-0 ran a search of the source and destination IP's. To everyone's surprise, they all seemed to be coming from two locations. One was the Polynesian Cultural Centre, on the northeast side of Oahu; the other, from an Internet café on the Banzai Pipeline.  
  
"They can't be that stupid," said Roxanne in disbelief. "And look at this, boss – the dates of the e-mails. They go back three months; which means these aren't random attacks ..."  
  
"They've been planning this the whole time," finished Michaels. "The mode of attack, the time, the places, the escape routes ..."  
  
"But there's just one problem," said Lucy. "We don't know if the couples in question were just random victims or not. For all we know, they could've been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it's just a coincidence they were all on Oahu."  
  
"Richardson," said Michaels, "call the Hawaii campus of BYU. They're the ones who own and operate the PCC. Ask them if they offer public access to their e-mail server."  
  
"I don't want to make a long distance call," said Roxanne, "it might be better if I drove up there and checked it out myself."  
  
"The whole island of Oahu is considered Honolulu, so it's a local call," said the 5-0. "But if you want to make the trip, I'll be happy to escort you. If the traffic is good, we should make it in about an hour."  
  
"What are you going to do?" asked Lucy, as the two cops put on their gear. "Try to catch the helper or the culprit in the act?"  
  
"Something like that," said Roxie. She and the Honolulu cop walked out.  
  
Lucy and Michaels continued sorting through the e-mail. Unspoken, each knew what the other was looking for ... the missing link that would explain all the mayhem, and how Theresa somehow fit into all of this.  
  
The flight to Maui took less than half an hour, and upon arriving there were greeted with pink-colored leis. An unmarked cruiser was waiting for Ruthie and Peter to take them to an all-suites hotel, overlooking the ocean and a greener than green golf course.  
  
Ruthie silently closed the door, while Peter drew the curtains. He drew his wife closer to her and started kissing her, letting his tongue trace the inside of her mouth. Ruthie did the same with her husband, as she unbuttoned his shirt and he her blouse.  
  
Working his way down to her neck, Peter gently bit it, giving her a hickey as he uncoupled her bra and slipped it off. Ruthie, both delighted as well as annoyed, bit harder on his neck as he started to caress her bosom like a newborn baby feeding itself on its mother's breast; while Ruthie slowly worked her way down to his khaki shorts, slowly taking off the belt and unzipping the pants. She worked her way back up to his chest and then his face, kissing Peter again. Peter then unbuttoned the skirt that Ruthie was wearing, letting it drop to the floor.  
  
Ruthie then went to the floor once more on her knees, taking off Peter's shoes, socks and then his boxers. She sat on the bed, allowing Peter to take off her high heeled shoes and her stockings, before removing her panties. Totally in the buff, the spouses gently pulled the covers off the bed. Ruthie laid on her back and allowed Peter to go down between her legs for only the second time in her life – the first being on their wedding night. He drew her around so she could take his manhood into her mouth. They continued this for several minutes until they were both ready to explode. Gently but firmly, Peter turned Ruthie back so they were now face to face, put himself inside of her, and after less than a minute they both burst with such intensity that for a moment each thought the other was dead.  
  
It was only when Ruthie drew Peter even closer to her and he started kissing her bosom once more that both knew the other was all right. They fell asleep, still one human being.  
  
The next morning, well into mid-morning, Ruthie finally got up, and saw the message light on the phone flashing. Peter wanted to draw her back for morning glory, but Ruthie knew it had to be urgent.  
  
It was. The phone call came from California. Kevin had been on duty writing a routine traffic ticket, when he got run over by a drunk driver. Kevin was badly hurt, both legs broken, but he was expected to live. Meanwhile, Chandler had gotten into a violent argument with Lou, Lucy's favorite deacon at the church. He had lunged at Lou, but instead his fist wound up in one of the stained glasses in Lucy's office.  
  
Still totally naked, Ruthie hung up the phone, and looked at her husband in shock. Peter, also still nude, returned the look with consternation of his own. This wasn't like Chandler at all. What was eating him? And how would Lucy and Roxanne react to the news? 


	10. Damage Assessment

Chapter Ten  
  
Chandler, his right hand in bandages and having spent the night in a holding cell, was being booked by Kevin for assault and damage to church property. Kevin, while badly hurt and having suffered a concussion, as well as wearing casts around his legs and walking around in crutches, insisted on completing his shift and promised to return to the hospital for more x-rays as soon as he had finished with Chandler. Hank Hastings (Eric's brother-in-law), who was running the emergency room shift that night, was annoyed by Kevin's moxie but told the cop who was working with Kevin to make sure he did go back to the hospital as soon as the work was done.  
  
Kevin, still in considerable pain but able to take notes as Chandler was taken out of his holding cell and in front of Kevin and Roxanne's desk, couldn't understand what could have possibly provoked such a highly regarded minister to lunge at a peaceable deacon.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry, I was way out of line," admitted Chandler. "I could have handled it a lot better than I did."  
  
"You're telling that to me?" snapped Kevin. "The ones you should be apologizing to are my wife, who's also the minister; and to Lou."  
  
"I will, and I'll pay for the damages, if you'll just drop the charges."  
  
"Lou doesn't want to press charges, he just wants an explanation. Actually, I do too. What were you two arguing about? For that matter, what were you doing there in the first place?"  
  
"As a former associate minister, I'm still on the board of directors, so I went for the regular monthly meeting the deacons have before discussing church business with Lucy. Of course, she's on business right now with Roxanne, so Lou as head deacon was chairing the meeting last night. During a coffee break, I took Lou aside and I was talking about how difficult it was for Roxie and me to be raising a kid. Lou said I didn't have a clue, given that his son has autism and that our daughter, Catherine, is perfectly normal. Well, Kevin, she's not. My wife and I found out that she more likely than not has Asperser's Syndrome."  
  
"I've heard of that. It can often mimic the symptoms of autism," said Kevin.  
  
"Yes, it can," said Chandler. "Well, instead of telling him that, I just lost it. So I threw a roundhouse right. He was standing in front of the stained glass window behind Lucy's desk. He ducked, and my fist hit the window."  
  
"You took it personally," said Kevin. "I can understand that totally. Luce and I get defensive when it comes to our kids. I know it's not the same, because they're developing normally, but if you and Roxie want to talk about it, we're here for you. We're your friends."  
  
"Maybe not for much longer," said Chandler.  
  
"What do you mean?" wondered Kevin.  
  
"It's not really relevant to this right now, but Roxie and I are thinking about moving to a better job at another university in another city. Not that I don't mind being Dean of Divinity at Crawford – I love it. But we all need to make a fresh start – the three of us – and, um, and closer to a facility where Catherine can get the help she needs. The doctors tell me if she gets extra help early, she should be able to develop almost as normally as any other kid. So she won't have to go to a 'special' school or anything like that."  
  
Kevin thought there might be something else, but he decided to let it drop – as well as hide the fact that he and Roxanne had had an affair. For his part, Chandler wasn't about to admit he and Lucy committed adultery too; he was still disgusted at himself, and embarrassed for his daughter's sake.  
  
"You're free to go," said Kevin. "But I have to warn you, this will go on file. You get as much as a jaywalking ticket, and we will press charges against you for what happened last night."  
  
"Thanks, officer. Have a good day." Chandler slowly got up and left. Kevin finished writing his report, and then was escorted by his replacement partner (also a woman cop) back to the hospital.  
  
Back in Maui, Ruthie and Peter had taken about a few minutes to get over the shock of the morning news, which had come from a phone call from Annie (although how she found out they were staying there now, they weren't sure).  
  
They ordered breakfast in bed, wearing housecoats when the food arrived but taking them off as soon as the door was closed. They spent the next half hour as nature made them, feeding each other eggs Benedict, bacon, native Hawaiian fruits and coffee while constantly kissing each other all over. They then put on only enough clothes to cover themselves, with absolutely no underwear beneath, and decided to take a walk around the island's main city, Kahului, then the famous black sand beaches and finally on the golf courses surrounding their hotel – their undercover "protectors" a discreet distance behind.  
  
What amazed them was just how peaceful this place was compared to Oahu. Certainly, the main island of the state was a place of solitude on its own. But this island was even better than that – truly God's country, they thought. They also talked about the previous evening, and how this might be their last chance to get pregnant before school started in the fall. After that, they agreed, there would be no time at all to even consider having a baby – they'd be immersed in assignments and science projects.  
  
"By the way, Peter, I have to ask you about last night. It was great and all, but why were you so hungry last night?"  
  
"You mean you don't know, Ruthie?" Peter looked at her, stunned. "Don't you remember what last night was?"  
  
"It was our first night here in Maui." Ruthie said that rather hesitantly.  
  
"Well, that too," said Peter, "but three years ago, last night, was the first time you and I made love. Remember at the summer camp?"  
  
"That was last night – which I totally forgot about?" Ruthie shook her head in disbelief. That was one night she'd never forget; the night Peter deflowered her and she made him a man. "I only remember just how much of a mess we made, how clumsy we were! But it didn't matter, because we lost our virginity to each other; the first and last person we'd ever make love to."  
  
"I'll never forget that night, because I knew only then and there just how beautiful you are," said Peter with authenticity. "Just being able to kiss you all over was thrill enough. To be able to become one human being with you was something totally different. I had no idea who was going to be my first; but after that night I knew you'd be my last."  
  
"I know, and I'm grateful it was you," said Ruthie, leaning on her husband's shoulder.  
  
"So, when do you think you'll know for sure? Like ... you know, if you're pregnant or not?"  
  
"I guess we'll know about a week or so before we go home," said Ruthie. "If I'm late, then we're almost pregnant. Even if I'm not, I'll never stop loving you, Peter."  
  
"And I'll always love you, Ruthie," said Peter. "When the time is right, you'll be ready. But after the wild night we had last, you'd better be!"  
  
Ruthie kicked her husband in the shins, just slightly. Peter grabbed his wife by the waist, taking her down with him to behind one of the trees along the empty golf course greens, and the couple made out.  
  
In Oahu, meanwhile, Lucy, Roxanne and Michaels were all numb over the news that Kevin had been attacked. They were relieved he was all right, but thought it might be more than just a coincidence that he got run over at the same time that both his wife and his beat partner were conveniently away and out of state.  
  
The Glen Oak cops and Lucy, along with the 5-0 official, were going over the new information they had found. Yes, the campus did offer free remote internet access as long as the users were willing to put up with a lot of banner and pop-up ads. And yes, it was possible to access the campus server from any telephone on the island. The university was more than willing to turn over phone records to trace the source of the calls, but they needed more information from the authorities. Oh, and by the way, they wanted a search warrant too. So did the internet café on the Banzai Pipeline.  
  
"No surprise there," said Lucy.  
  
"But at least we're getting closer to solving this case," said Michaels.  
  
"And figuring out why Ruthie and Peter haven't yet been attacked," added Roxanne.  
  
"You've been a great help," said the 5-0, a native Hawaiian named Bishop. "We'll get this before a judge, and he or she should issue a warrant before the end of the day. Thank you again, all of you. If we need any more assistance, we'll get in touch with you. In the meantime, feel free to enjoy the island and all we have to offer."  
  
"Glad to be of assistance," said Lucy. "But you've got to admit, officer, things like this don't happen in Paradise."  
  
"They're not supposed to, but they do," said Bishop. "We have the odd random attacks, but tourists are mainly mugged or get ripped off by street side vendors. I can't recall the last time so many people from out of state have been killed in such a systemic manner. And it's been a nightmare for the locals, too. Hotel bookings are already down 10% from where they should be at this time of year. Even a 2 or 3% drop in overnight stays is a disaster. Word spreads fast to the Mainland. They take us and our resources for granted; and when stuff happens here, they avoid us like the plague."  
  
"I'll see you ladies back at the hotel," said Michaels. "I know you'll want to do some shopping here, as well as talk about what happened to Kevin, so go ahead without me."  
  
Lucy and Roxanne hopped a bus to an open-air mall, and went to a Japanese restaurant. As lunch was served to them, Roxanne picked up her chopsticks, as did Lucy. They put them down, and back up again. Finally, Roxanne had enough.  
  
"Lucy, I have a confession to make. I know this is the worst time and the worst place to tell you, especially after what happened back on the Mainland last night, but I've got to get something off my bosom."  
  
"You're not the only one," said Lucy. "Tell you what, let's flip a coin. Loser fesses first. You make the call."  
  
Roxanne called tails. She lost. 


	11. The Lipstick on the Mirror

Chapter Eleven  
  
Peter and Ruthie were tickling each other all the way back from the golf course to their hotel in Maui, more than ready to make love yet again once they hit their room. But first, they had to get some supper and she needed to freshen up.  
  
Sliding the key card for their room and opening the door, Ruthie gently pried off her husband (who had a hard time letting her go) and immediately headed for the bathroom. What she saw next caused her not to gasp or scream, but merely to moan in a very low pitch.  
  
Sensing instinctively that something was wrong, Peter knocked on the door which Ruthie had locked. It took about ten seconds before his wife opened it, for she had slid to the floor and had to sit back up, reaching behind her to unlatch the lock. It was still dark, but the fan was running.  
  
Peter turned on the light. Ruthie had moved to one side of the bathroom. Still sitting down, she motioned to the mirror about the marble sink. On it, there was a message written with a color that he recognized as Ruthie's lip gloss. It said:  
  
YOU CAN'T RUN, BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE. WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM WILL HAPPEN TO YOU. GO HOME, NOW.  
  
"Don't touch anything," said Peter. "Don't shower. Don't freshen up. Don't even brush your teeth. Don't even remove the snot from the corners of your eyes. There's something I have to check."  
  
Immediately, Peter ran out of the bathroom and started looking around. The room was in perfect shape. The balcony door had not been forced open, the bed sheets were freshly changed, the carpet vacuumed. The luggage had not been forced into, nor had the Gideon Bible been swiped from the bed stand. Peter turned on the TV, and logged into his and his wife's room account. No one had made any orders for any movies, erotic or otherwise, while they were out.  
  
Peter called the front desk. Knowing that the hotel kept records of when card keys were swiped, he asked when the room had last been entered into. It was exactly two minutes after he and Ruthie had left – and the cleaning had been done by specially trained officers from the 5-0, who were also sweeping the room for bugs and anything else that someone untoward could use to harm Peter and Ruthie. Before he asked, the front desk clerk assured him the door lock system was impossible to hack into, period. They were controlled by a central computer at the regional office for the hotel chain in Honolulu, and it was impossible to break into because it was protected by a series of firewalls.  
  
Peter hung up the phone. How on earth did someone break in?  
  
"Peter," said Ruthie, stepping out of the bathroom, "look at this."  
  
Peter walked back to the bathroom. He saw his wife pointing up to the ceiling. The fan cover was slightly out of flush, and a bolt had been removed. That bolt, along with the nut which held the bolt from inside the ceiling, was on the floor about a foot away from the left side of the scrawled message. He then checked the "hers" drawer under the sink. The only thing that was missing was the bottle of lip gloss, which Peter had gotten for her before the honeymoon and which cost over $20 because of the unusual color.  
  
"So that's it," said Ruthie. "That's how all those poor couples have gotten attacked. They used the ductwork!"  
  
"I think someone would've noticed someone else crawling through that," said Peter. "Anyone having sex would hear that over their beds."  
  
"They're pretty well insulated, to carry the steam out," said Ruthie.  
  
"But how would they know what rooms those couples are staying in?"  
  
"Simple phone call, saying there's urgent message for a relative, and a return number. They call back, get a reply saying they're the third cousin of the twice removed cousin of whomever, congratulations, and oh, by the way, can we wire you a honeymoon bouquet to your suite? They give out the room number, bang."  
  
"This is Hawaii, Ruthie," said Peter. "The roaming charges must be enormous if the return number is on the mainland."  
  
"I don't think the motive is money, Peter. I think it's about my side of the family." She chose her words carefully as Peter was now, technically, a member of the Camdens too.  
  
"What about Shelby and Rod?" asked Peter. "I don't think anyone could break into the military hotel without ID."  
  
"Which is why they were mugged in front of it," replied Ruthie. "I know it's crazy, and it's going to drive Lucy and Roxanne crazy, but we've got to call them right away. Now we know this guy's after us, whoever he is, and we're going to have to be careful."  
  
"Don't you think it'd be just better to cancel the rest of our trip, go back to the mainland, and use the money we get back to find a place where we can really hide?"  
  
"That's what he wants us to do," said the wife, pointing to the writing on the mirror. "No, it's a trap. We're going back to Oahu, tonight. We'll take the last plane out. It's in the air long enough so we just have enough time to have a glass of genuine Hawaiian pineapple juice, but we need to get back to where it all started. Retrace our steps. See if we – you and I – stumbled over something from the moment we got here. We need to think like this guy would."  
  
"I'll call front desk again. No, wait a minute," said Peter. He took his wife by his hand and into the bedroom. Turning up the radio so no one could hear (it didn't matter, for all the neighboring guests were at a luau at that time), Peter whispered to his wife to go downstairs, use a payphone, and book a couple of seats with the names Michael and Reese San Quentin. Payment would be in cash upon arrival at the airport, he told her to tell the reservation clerk, and no questions should be asked. Ruthie slipped her room key, gently kissed her husband on the lips, gathered her belongings and tiptoed out of the room, taking the maintenance elevator as an extra precaution.  
  
Meanwhile, Peter turned on the TV again. Dialing up the room account, he selected the on screen display for room checkout. He took his luggage and personal effects, placed the other key into the front shirt pocket, and walked out the door, non-chalant, taking the fire escape. The alarm did not go off as it was designed to do, for a signal received at the front desk when he had make his selection set off a silent alarm at the front desk saying something had gone wrong and the guests known as Mr. and Mrs. Alcatraz needed to get out, now.  
  
This was a coded message that only Peter knew about and that Roxie had given the night before. He didn't even tell his wife what was going on. It hurt him that he had to hide something so important from her; but since she was the one that was being targeted and he quickly realized that her life was more precious than his own, especially if there was any chance that their honeymoon might produce a child to carry on the Camden and Petrovsky blood lines.  
  
Both his panic alarm and her call to the airline were all the cops needed. By the time Peter and Ruthie met again in the lobby, the concierge was already there, taking the keys from Peter's pocket and saying the room was complimentary. Moments later, not one but two SWAT armored vehicles pulled up in front of the hotel. Ruthie was rushed into the first truck, Peter into the second, while their luggage was driven by a third police vehicle, unmarked. A specially chartered private jet was waiting to take them back.  
  
Apparently, the police were taking no chances with the couple; for as Ruthie and Peter were about to learn, about noon that day two more couples had been found; one was murdered, the other was badly shot and left for dead but miraculously still alive. The murdered couple was a close friend of Ruthie's, Lynn Hamilton and her boyfriend Tyler, the kid whose mother had a problem with the IRS. They were staying on the island of Molokai. The survivors were Kevin and Ben's sister, Patty Mary Kinkirk and her new husband. The FBI G-woman hesitated.  
  
"Who?" asked Ruthie. "Who is he?'  
  
"You're not going to believe this," said the Fibbie. "It's your uncle, George Grayson."  
  
Ruthie and Peter were so shocked at this one they didn't even bother at first to ask how Patty Mary and George managed to survive the attack. Ruthie and her husband each grabbed a whole pitcher of grapefruit juice and managed to drink them down in one gulp.  
  
"Patty Mary? I thought she swore off the idea of getting married," said Ruthie, still in shock.  
  
"So did I!" said Peter.  
  
"George was on business for the IRS back in Buffalo, handling a tax appeal, when he ran into a clerk who works at the Buffalo office. She's a mutual friend of both Patty Mary, who also works for the IRS, and George's, and she set them up on a blind date. I think she's what, a couple years older than him, but they hit it off. They actually got married a year or so ago, but they've only gotten around to a honeymoon now because they were waiting for her to be transferred to the West Coast, where he works."  
  
"But Patty Mary's my sister-in-law, and George is my uncle," said Ruthie, "so my sister-in-law's now also my aunt, which makes me her niece and her sister-in-law. When they have children ..."  
  
"They're going to be both your cousins and your nieces or nephews ..." added Peter.  
  
"And since George is Dad's and Julie's brother, which makes him what? His own grandfather?" finished Ruthie sarcastically.  
  
"We'll get to that later," said Peter, waving his hand. "What happened to them?"  
  
"Gunshot wound," said the fed. "He snuck into the room, via the ductwork, and was lying in wait inside the closet. He shot them while they were having sex, aiming for both their heads. Except they decided to switch positions at that moment, and he got them both in their thighs. They'll be okay, but they're in shock more than anything. Good thing they called the cops when they did, because they were both losing a lot of blood."  
  
"Did you get fingerprints?" asked Ruthie.  
  
"Place is clean. He was using racing gloves," replied the cop. "But we have the bullets. Preliminary forensics show they come from a gun barrel with five turns, instead of the usual six. We called ATF and they're running a check on all the registered owners of those guns, see if any have been reported lost or stolen recently. That's a start. It's the first real break we've had in this case, in fact."  
  
Peter and Ruthie sank in their seats. They both had the feeling someone was looking out for them, but they couldn't figure out why they had escaped being attacked, and how long it was going to be before they were really targeted.  
  
Five thousand miles away, at their new home in Chicago, Simon Camden and Deena Stewart had just put their daughter, three year old Annie Janice, to bed. Simon was working for the Chicago Film Office, while Deena had gotten a job as a photographer for the mid-west region of a newspaper chain. After having finally settled down, Simon and his wife decided the time was right to have another baby. That morning, Deena had learned she was pregnant again. She and her husband were so ecstatic that they decided to make love that night just for the sake of making love.  
  
They went through the usual motions. As Simon brought her to climax, his eyes closed as he was grunting, Deena opened her eyes and started screaming, "Oh my God – oh, my God!"  
  
"I'm not there yet, sweetheart," said Simon, gently grabbing her hips. Then, a second later, "Now I am."  
  
"No, honey," said Deena, rolling to her side and pushing her husband off of her, "not that." She laid herself back down and paused for a moment, while she gently moaned and her body shook. Then she sat up, her bosom facing Simon.  
  
"It just occurred to me. It's all those couples in Hawaii you've been telling me about, and about Ruthie and Peter. They've got it all wrong. It's not about your family, it's about Peter. I think I know who's doing it, and why." 


	12. Call Waiting

Chapter Twelve  
  
At the restaurant, Roxanne began by telling Lucy about her daughter's medical condition, and how it was driving her and Chandler crazy; so much so that it was affecting their sex life. She told Lucy that, in an attempt to both help their child and save their marriage, they were considering a move away from Glen Oak to make a fresh start  
  
Roxanne then put down her cup of Hawaiian coffee, and faced the woman who was her mentor, friend, and longtime rival. This was going to be the most difficult confession she ever had to make, but she knew she was the only one who could make things right.  
  
"Just before Ruthie and Peter got married," said Roxie, "Kevin and I were on a stakeout on the 'po side of town. You know, where the free trade zone is – all the abandoned warehouses that were converted to value added plants, finishing goods up before they're shipped off elsewhere?"  
  
"Yeah, of course," said Lucy.  
  
"Kevin and I got a tip that one of those warehouses was not the chocolate factory that it claimed to be; that after hours, the plant owners were processing poppies smuggled out of places like ... well, you know what part of the world they mostly come from."  
  
"It really doesn't matter, because I know what they're turned into: Opium," said Lucy.  
  
"That's right," replied Roxie. "Well, let me back up. A few days before we started the stakeout, actually a week, someone who was doing an unscheduled late shift at the computer components plant next door noticed something was funny. He saw a lot of unmarked trucks from his office window two floors above. Irregular times coming in and out, people moving almost too quietly. He knew it wasn't right, so he quietly called the cops. After checking the tipster out and believing he didn't have an axe to grind, we took over that guy's office space, turned out the lights, and using night vision goggles started taking notes of our own.  
  
"Finally, we decided we had enough probable cause. With help from the DEA, we busted the place. Turns out we hit the jackpot. Boxes and boxes of raw poppies, work in progress, and opium ready to ship to the street. By our count, about 1800 metric tons – roughly equal to the entire crop from Afghanistan for about six months. If they all came from that one country, of course – we found the source seeds trace back to some other countries, too, including right here in the States. Amazing what you can do with hydroponics and stolen electricity.  
  
"We're going to break the story tomorrow morning, because the place was under seal and we needed time to round up all the ringleaders and get indictments from the grand jury. But it's what happened right after the raid, and Kevin and I returned to the station, that I have to tell you about."  
  
Lucy had a gut feeling what it was going to be, but she decided if she was right she wouldn't lash out at either Roxie or Kevin – the fact she might be pregnant weighed against that.  
  
"He and I were doing the paperwork," continued Roxie, "and were writing report after report. About four in the morning, we decided we needed to take a break, and went to the all night coffee shop. Yeah, I know, I know, the stereotype, but it's the only thing open that time of night. Well, when we got back to the station, I accidentally spilled some of my brew on his lap. I got one of my facial tissues to try to dry it up. Somehow, I had one of my hands on his leg while I dabbed off the coffee.  
  
"I looked up at him and apologized, but – I don't know, our eyes locked and it just, let out. Maybe it was the excitement of pulling off the biggest bust in years, or just the tension we've had all this time working the same beat. Or maybe it was just the fact Chandler and I haven't had sex for almost six months and I needed someone to cling to. Or maybe Kevin has something with you to pick over. Any way you cut it, I couldn't stand it anymore.  
  
"We looked around, saw no one else was on duty, so I switched our phone to the 911 dispatch. He grabbed my arm, we headed to the woman's bathroom, and we started kissing like crazy. Our tongues must have been wrestling like ... well, I'm sure you get the idea. He then reached under my skirt, while I unzipped his trousers. It may have taken us about two minutes to undress and we had sex right then and there. Ten minutes later, we returned to our desks with our clothes back on, as if nothing happened.  
  
"Luce, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. This was totally out of character for me. I just lost it and so did your husband."  
  
A pause ensued. Lucy sipped her pineapple juice, and then faced Roxanne.  
  
"Forget it," the minister said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Forget it," repeated Lucy. "We all make mistakes. Besides, it's my turn, and you're not going to like this."  
  
Lucy proceeded to repeat what she had told Ruthie. She then added that Kevin had been distant from her for some time, too, and that she had overcompensated for her transgression with Chandler by what she was trying to do with her husband.  
  
"That's me, too," said Roxanne. "If there was any chance I might be pregnant, I want it to be Chandler's and not your husband's. And vice versa as far as you're concerned."  
  
"So you're not mad at me?" asked Lucy.  
  
"What's the point?" replied Roxie. "If anyone should be mad, it's our husbands; except they worked behind both our backs, too. I don't know, maybe we should just tell them the truth, and try to work it out with our respective spouses."  
  
"They'll have to work it out between them, too," added Lucy. "After all, from now on they'll be the 'other man.'"  
  
An undercover officer walked up to Roxanne and handed her a note detailing what had happened, and that Ruthie and Peter were due back in Honolulu within the hour. Nervously, she handed the note to Lucy.  
  
Lucy was shocked when she read it, and burst into tears. The news that George and Patty Mary had eloped and managed to keep their marriage a secret all this time was beyond weird; in fact, this was the first time a secret with the Camden-Kinkirk circle managed to stay a secret. She instinctively knew that there was no way either Kevin or Ben knew about it. Nor could Eric or Julie have known; and they'd be really shocked when they got this piece of news. Lucy, at least, could handle that – as a minister, she helped quite a few couples elope, conducting civil ceremonies after hours and in secret locations; which she was entitled to do.  
  
But the news about Tyler and Lynn was too much. Lynn, for a number of years Ruthie's best friend, was full of the same energy and mischief that had marked Ruthie during her pre-pubescent years. But Tyler, a guy whose family got a second chance when the IRS cut them some slack? That was a murder that had absolutely no motive, no cause, and no reason. Who'd want to kill a guy who had had almost no contact with the family in nearly nine years – seven actually (if one counted the fact he showed up for Eric's surprise fiftieth birthday party, along with nearly 500 other people), and why?  
  
Lucy was comforted by the "other woman." Even if this was a serial murder she and the other cops were contending with, these were individuals after all, men and women who had lives beyond their marriages and their jobs. They were defined not by their couplings but by their individual characters. It could very well be her at the morgue, Roxanne told herself. This was now beyond the pale of insanity. Now, it was personal.  
  
Lucy's cell phone rang. She picked it up. It was Deena. It was just past midnight in Chicago, but only seven in the evening in Hawaii. Deena seemed breathless as she expounded her theory about the killings. Just as she was about to name a name, Lucy heard a beep.  
  
"Just a minute, Deena," said Lucy. "I've got a call on the other line."  
  
Lucy took the other call. It was Robbie Palmer, from his' and his wife Mary's home in Fort Lauderdale.  
  
"Luce," said Robbie, "I've got to talk to you. It's about the serial killings."  
  
"Just a minute, Robbie," said Lucy, "I've got a call on the other line. Let me call you back in a few minutes. Wait, it's only one a.m. where you are."  
  
"You can call back when it's convenient for you," said Robbie. "Our son, Martin started having a crying fit right after ..."  
  
"No, wait, hold the line," said Lucy. She had a hunch about something. She clicked the button to go back to the first call. "Sorry to keep you holding, Deena; it's Robbie."  
  
"That's okay," said Deena. "By the way, how is he?"  
  
"I'm going to find out, just as soon as you finish telling me what you have to tell me. Who do you think is behind this?"  
  
Deena gave her a name.  
  
"Okay, hold on, while I write this down." Lucy wrote the name down on a slip of paper, and waived it at the cop who had just broken the news about the last two couples attacked.  
  
"Run a background check on this guy," said Lucy to the officer. "I can't believe it's him, but if it is, we need to check his credit records."  
  
"You're thinking like a cop, Reverend," said the detective. "I'll check it out."  
  
"Okay Deena," said Lucy. "By the way, how did you come up with that name?"  
  
"I know it's going to sound crazy, but it occurred to me while Simon and I were having sex tonight. We're going to have another baby!"  
  
"You came up with that name – how? Deena, um, do you mind holding on a little while longer?"  
  
"Sure," said Deena.  
  
Lucy had not paid the scantest attention to the news she was going to be an aunt again. All she could think about was ... no, this was too nuts. How could Deena know ...? Lucy switched to the other line.  
  
"Robbie. I'm sorry to keep you holding. What's your theory?"  
  
Robbie gave her a name. Incredibly, almost uncannily, it was the exact same name Deena had come up with. Lucy thought this was too weird, but she had to ask.  
  
"Robbie, is Mary pregnant again?"  
  
"How did you know that?"  
  
"And were you guys celebrating that by having sex, and you came up with that name while ..."  
  
"No, Mary did," said Robbie. "I know it's nuts, but that's what happened. She screamed, pushed me off of her, looked at me, and then said that guy's name out loud and said, 'he wants Peter.' Then our son woke up and started crying. Mary's feeding him right now and trying to calm him down."  
  
"Robbie," said Lucy, "tell Mary thank you very much and congratulations. If she's right, I'll owe her forever. Good night."  
  
She switched back to the first line.  
  
"Deena, by any chance, have you talked to Mary lately?"  
  
"No," said Deena. "She's just our sister-in-law. It's Simon who talks to her mostly. Why?"  
  
"I'll tell you first thing in the morning," replied Lucy. "Give Catherine an extra hug, congratulations on your new bundle of joy, and, um ... French kiss Simon one more time, just for me, okay? Bye." She hung up the phone abruptly.  
  
Roxanne was flustered. She had no idea what on earth was going on. Lucy leaned over and whispered the name of the new suspect in her right ear. Roxie gasped. Then she added, "Oh, by the way, Luce, Deena's daughter's name is Annie, not Catherine."  
  
"Yeah, you're right. Even I'm going crazy now." Lucy shook her head.  
  
The detective returned. "Good news, ladies. Our suspect is on this island right now. He has been since the day before the attacks commenced. In fact, he took a side trip this morning. First to Molokai, then to ..."  
  
"Maui?" asked Roxie.  
  
"Precisely," said the cop. "He returned not an hour ago, and charged an expensive dinner next to the marina where the opening sequence for 'Gilligan's Island' was shot. So we know he's back here."  
  
"We have to tell Ruthie and Peter!" gasped Lucy.  
  
"No, you won't," said the detective. "They received a death threat in Maui this morning, and are being debriefed by the 5-0. They'll be there all night. But we'll be happy to tell them we've on the lookout for a suspect. But no names until we nail the guy – we need more than just circumstantial evidence."  
  
The detective left. Roxanne and Lucy paid their tab, and headed back for the hotel room they were sharing. They undressed in full view of each other, and slipped on their respective nightgowns. They said good night to each other and apologized once more for betraying each other's trust. The two women turned out their bed lights. A moment later, Lucy turned hers back on, sat up, reached for the bed stand, and pulled out the Bible.  
  
"I hope you don't mind," said Lucy. "Kevin and I read a few chapters before I go to bed every night – at least, since I was ordained."  
  
"Not without me you won't," said Roxanne. "So do Chandler and I."  
  
Lucy flipped the pages to the middle of the Book of Job, the last place where she had left off, and handed it to Roxanne. Roxie read aloud, starting from 19:25: "For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth." 


	13. Waikiki Surprise

Chapter Thirteen  
  
The next morning, Lucy woke from her slumber, her eyes blinded by the morning sun coming through the lanai doors. She pulled off her covers. She was in the buff. Her nightgown had been laid aside by her bed.  
  
She could hear gentle breathing coming from beside her. Roxanne was still sleeping and her nightgown, too, was beside her respective bed; but for some reason Roxie herself was in the same bed as Lucy. It took a few moments for Lucy to realize something wasn't quite right. Lucy looked down at her fingernails, which were full of grit.  
  
"What the heck?" she thought. For a minute, she had no memory of the night before.  
  
Then it hit her like a slap in the abdomen. She had cheated on Kevin – again.  
  
Lucy and Roxie had taken turns reading from Job, reading through to the end of the twenty-first chapter. After replacing the Bible back into the bed- stand, Roxie wished Lucy good night and hugged her. Lucy, in an act of friendship and wanting to close the matter of their respective infidelities once and for all, leaned over to give Roxie a kiss on the cheek. But at the last second, Roxie had inadvertently turned her head and her lips met Lucy's. Lucy was stunned, and pulled away. But something about it made her mind go into a state of wonder. She put her hands on Roxie's cheeks, pulled her face towards hers, and they started kissing again – a long, deep kiss.  
  
Within moments, they had removed each other's nightgown and were kissing one another all over each other's bodies. Roxanne had had an affair with a woman before – a fellow cop whom she had met long before meeting either Lucy or Chandler – during a difficult time in her life, but this was a first for Lucy. It was two hours she would never allow herself to forget.  
  
For now in the morning dawn and the sun streaking all over Lucy's glorious feminine body, one totally devoid of stretch marks from her previous pregnancies, Lucy Kinkirk was furious with herself. It was bad enough that she had slept with Chandler. Now, she had done so with Chandler's wife too. She had betrayed her husband for a second time – and in the space of less than two months. And to make matters worse, she was "late."  
  
Could she be actually pregnant with Chandler's child? Could Roxanne be carrying Kevin's? And how on earth, did she wind up with Roxanne like this? Didn't this complicate matters even more? And what example did this set for her children – Charles, Jennifer and Rhiannon?  
  
Lucy's mind went back to the night several weeks back that she slept with Chandler. Her memory was a blur about that night, except for the papers flying, dishes being shoved off the dining room table, and both her and him grunting and groaning as they were together. But her mind also was replaying a gentle crunching sound. What could that have been?  
  
She sighed in relief as she realized it must have been a condom, which Chandler would've put on at the last minute. Roxanne had confided to her friend that she and her husband were using them to avoid getting pregnant again, given the big bills they were already paying to take care of their "special needs" daughter, Catherine.  
  
Lucy quickly reckoned that Kevin probably had done what he did with Roxanne on the spur of the moment but that he would not be so reckless as to spawn a son or daughter with someone other than his mate for life. He, too, would've used protection because he had a ready supply – Lucy had wanted to wait a few more years before trying to have a child again. She wanted to build up her ministry and church some more. But these last few weeks, she changed her mind over the guilt she had about Chandler.  
  
So there was no question about it. Lucy Camden Kinkirk was pregnant again, and it was definitely Kevin's baby. Roxanne Hampton Richardson was also pregnant, and it was her husband's and not Kevin's. Lucy heaved a huge sigh of relief over that. At least both their tracks were covered there.  
  
Roxanne finally awoke. She pulled off the covers, stirred and sat up. Her naked front was facing Lucy's, also highlighted by the sun but streaked by the shadows of the vertical blinds from the balcony door. Like Lucy, she too lacked the stretch marks that so many post-partum women were cursed with. And like Lucy, Roxanne quickly realized the compromising position they were both in – that they had put themselves in.  
  
"Luce," said a shaking Roxanne, "don't tell me we did what we did last night. Did we actually, really, make love to each other?"  
  
"Yeah, Roxie, we did," said Lucy, who thought she was going to convulse, too. "And we can't ever do that again! Nor can we tell anyone about it – not our husbands, not my siblings, no one."  
  
"I agree," said Roxanne. "I mean, I liked it and all, but I made a commitment to my husband, as you did with yours; and here I am having broken it twice; just like you."  
  
"Tell me about it," replied Lucy. "Chandler was one thing, but you? I'm really going to have to explain myself to the deacons when we get back to the Mainland. Not to mention Kevin." She paused; then as if she needed to get rid of the evidence, added, "Um, I'm going to get a shower."  
  
While the shower was running, Roxanne was seething against herself. This was totally unlike her. Was this possible: a minister's wife, sleeping with a married woman minister? Maybe Lucy was the irrational, stubborn one and maybe she made the move on her. But it was still wrong – totally wrong. She could have said no. She could have politely refused. There was no excuse for stabbing her spouse for a second time.  
  
She also knew she had no choice but to deal with the consequences; that she could not wait much longer. She had to tell both Chandler and Kevin about both women's dalliances before Lucy had a chance to. But this wasn't a good time, not when Ruthie and Peter's lives were still in danger. She'd tell them as soon as the case was wrapped up and all had returned to the mainland.  
  
Ten minutes later, Lucy stepped out of the shower, with a bathrobe around her. She signalled to Roxanne that it was her turn, and that after she stepped out they'd be meeting for breakfast with Michaels and a new cop with the 5-0, a specialist in serial killings, to go over their notes.  
  
Lucy pulled off her bathrobe and selected her wardrobe for the day, a tan cotton business suit with jacket and matching skirt, along with a white blouse and women's tie to match the suit, and set them on her bed. She carefully slipped on her freshly laundered floral pattern cotton brassiere, then matching panties and then white stockings, before putting the rest of her clothes on her. She still couldn't believe what she and Roxanne had done. Then again, it really shouldn't have been a surprise.  
  
They were the best of friends, and both had husbands that their respective wives adored, and the other woman killed for. They spent so much time together in each other's company, having pizza or just talking about stuff, it was a wonder they hadn't done this until now. That didn't make it right, of course, but it didn't mean that either Lucy or Roxanne was that way ... but they had made that choice and would now have to live with the consequences, whatever they might be. And she knew she'd have to tell Kevin the truth, and soon.  
  
Lucy reached into her purse for her cell phone, and checked her messages. There were two text messages. One was from Matt. In shorthand, he wrote that he and Sarah were expecting another child. Lucy was thrilled by that news and for a moment almost completely forgotten her problems. If Ruthie had gotten pregnant – and both she and Lucy were convinced she was – that would mean the original five children were now all expecting children of their own at the same time. It couldn't get much better than that for Lucy – becoming a mother and an aunt four times over.  
  
Lucy quickly typed, "CNGRTS BRO, LUV LUCY" and hit the reply button. She then checked the second message. It was from Ruthie. It seemed rather cryptic, "QE, JH, ALBGNSM?"  
  
The minister didn't quite get it. But she understood why her sister might want to be coy about what she was saying. If the suspect was following Ruthie and her husband around, they might want to stay one step ahead of the predator.  
  
She was still staring at the screen when Roxanne stepped out. She had been in there less than five minutes and she was still naked but had wiped herself dry, and was now brushing down her wet hair.  
  
"What have you got there, Luce?"  
  
Lucy shrugged and showed her the screen. It took less than a minute for Roxie to decode it. "QE" was the code name the Honolulu and Glen Oak police departments were using for their prime suspect, though those weren't the real initials of the person in question. The next two parts of the message seemed almost weird. Looking up at Lucy, Roxie said:  
  
"John Hus, Albigensianism."  
  
"You're kidding," said Lucy.  
  
"Nope, that's what it says," replied Roxie.  
  
"How can you be sure?"  
  
"Remember your theory about you though that the parents of that woman – um, Theresa – was behind the killings? And how I thought you were nuts?"  
  
"Yeah," said Lucy.  
  
"Well, you were wrong about the suspects, but you got the motive right on. The guy we're looking for is someone who believes in the Albigensian heresy – namely, that there are two gods, one good and one evil. It also holds ..."  
  
"... that we're partly the creation of God and partly of the devil," continued Lucy, "and that to save our souls and achieve eternal salvation, we need to separate ourselves from the world and live a virtuous life, free from sin, and in common with those who think the same way ..."  
  
"... a heresy outlawed by the Fourth Lateran Council in the year 1215," said Roxie, almost as if was reciting it from memory from her first year religious studies class at university. "But how does John Hus factor into that? From what I've read about him, his beliefs were the furthest thing from that particular heresy."  
  
"He may not have been an Albigensian, but he was a heretic, too," pointed out Lucy. "He said that one lost grace if one was in a state of sin, rehashing the falsehoods Wycliffe spread. Hus also taught that a minister lost his mortal authority to preach if he himself was a sinner ... but that's weird. They're long forgotten, almost obscure points in history. The only way Ruthie could know about all that was – from Sunday school class, something which a lot of kids try to skip out on because they don't want to do into detail about those minutiae. Still, why would they ..."  
  
Then it struck her like a missile.  
  
"Of course!" said Lucy. "Our suspect must have believed that Ruthie and Peter were in a state of sin when they had gotten married, thus their marriage is invalid!"  
  
"What would their 'sin' be?" inquired Roxanne. She quickly answered her own question. "They had premarital sex. Oh come on, Luce, we may have been virgins when we each got married to our respective husbands, but we're the exception. Like, 75% of couples, maybe more, have had sex either with each other or with someone else before they got married. It's nothing new!"  
  
"Unless it goes completely against your belief system, and the only way to 'cleanse' the sin is to rid the world of it," said Lucy. "And until now, I've never told you this, but ..." Lucy lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned towards Roxanne. She continued, "... just before their honeymoon, Peter and Ruthie managed to change their admissions. They're not taking general arts anymore, they're taking theology. They're going to be ministers, just like me."  
  
Roxanne pulled away and faced Lucy. "Are you serious? But ... I thought Peter was Catholic."  
  
"A former, non-practising Catholic," replied Lucy. "He's pretty much given up on his former faith. Remember, he elected to be baptized in my church, so technically he converted."  
  
"So, they're actually going to be ministers?" Roxie was amazed.  
  
"Yes," said Lucy. "But they haven't told my parents yet, or even my siblings. The only other person in the world who would know they're studying divinity is ..."  
  
"Someone in the admissions office; someone like ... QE." Roxanne now understood it all. No minister could ever claim to be perfect, although generally they and their spouses were normally held to a higher standard. But for this theory to hold water, they'd have to prove that QE did in fact work for UCLA. She discretely sent a text message to the special agent to check out that premise. "So what do we do in the meantime?"  
  
"Stick to our schedules, like we didn't figure this out," replied Lucy.  
  
"Do we tell Ruthie and Peter?"  
  
"No," said Lucy. "Their honeymoon has already been marred enough. Last night they moved to a secret location, somewhere I don't know about. They're going to try to have sex in absolute tranquility; although will all that's happened and so many of their friends dead or wounded I can't see how they can clear their minds and focus only on each other, the poor lovebirds." She sighed sadly, feeling truly sorry for her sister and brother-in-law.  
  
"Let's hope QE doesn't find them," said Roxie anxiously. "By the way, I wonder what Chandler and Kevin are up to." She put on her underwear and on top of them her clothes, a business suit that matched Lucy's but was a pale blue; then slapped on her police badge around the skirt's waistline. "Let's go, Luce; we don't want to keep the other cops waiting."  
  
Twenty-five hundred miles northeast, in the parking lot of the Glen Oak police department, an altercation was occurring at that exact moment. Officers were struggling to keep Kevin and Chandler apart, after a verbal argument turned into a nasty fist-fight. Just moments before, Chandler had casually browsed through Kevin's desk (or rather, Roxanne's side of the desk she and Kevin shared at work) while he was on a coffee break; when he found a gold embossed Bible sitting on top of that writing table. He took a closer look. It had the initials "KK" and "LC" on it.  
  
Apparently, after Chandler and Lucy had had their affair, they parted company but she left her Bible behind at the Hampton's (monogrammed with those initials) and left with his Bible (with the imprint "CH" and "RR".) Roxanne had brought that Bible to work the day before she left for Hawaii, not realizing the switch had taken place.  
  
When Kevin had returned and was confronted with it, he countered by slamming on his desk the other switched Bible. He had found it alongside Lucy's bed stand at their home the previous night. He hadn't bothered to look closer until then because the Bible had the same leather cover and was also engraved, albeit discretely on the book's binding. The two men started shouting at each other. The reprimands turned into shouts, fists, and finally the drawing of blood – each giving the other an upper cut below the right eye. Finally, some other cops, all women, forced them apart but the looks in their eyes indicated that no one had heard the last of this matter. 


	14. Bushwacked in the Rain Forest

Chapter Fourteen  
  
Kevin and Chandler were dragged back into the police station. No one could quite believe it: a cop wearing casts around both his legs from his accident, and a minister wearing bandages covering the cuts from which he had hurt himself when he smashed the church window; still both were angry enough to forget their temporary disabilities and engage in a fist fight over something for which they themselves were equally guilty: infidelity, and with each other's wives.  
  
Kevin was suspended for one week with pay; while Chandler, having ignored Kevin's previous warning, was spared jail time but received a $400 fine for disturbing the peace. The police chief also forced them to sign a peace bond, forcing them to stay away from each other until their respective wives returned, which was also supposed to happen in about a week.  
  
Back in Oahu, and later that evening, Lucy and Roxanne were having a quiet dinner at a restaurant on the windward side of the island, well away from the hustle of the main drag of downtown Honolulu. It was an unusually quiet affair. Word had already reached them about what happened in Glen Oak, and the women were embarrassed both for themselves and for the fact their husbands didn't take the news that well. But the men didn't know about their wives' own affair, something for which Luce and Roxie were also mortified had even happened.  
  
Although, when each privately thought about it, unspoken to each other, it may have been Roxanne who had made the first move a couple of days before; when, in response to Lucy's shock over the news her ex-boyfriend Jeremy was living with Ashley, Roxanne had told Lucy: "Stranger things have happened." It was almost an invitation to Lucy to experiment, to see what being with another woman was all about, in a place and time such that no one, not even their husbands, would ever know.  
  
Lucy and Roxanne could not have known that just a couple of miles away at a bed and breakfast, Ruthie and Peter had finally found the tranquility they had been seeking from the time they had arrived in Hawaii some time before. They decided that, for the time they were here, they'd remain in seclusion, stepping out only for meals. Further, they'd avoid having sex – a rather unusual decision for a honeymooning couple. Instead, they'd spend most of their time naked but meditating, praying for peace for themselves, their departed friends, and for the world.  
  
For five days, they did this, until both had reached the sense of place and time they had longed for – togetherness and harmony, with God, themselves and the world around them. And in a dream, Ruthie came to the realization that she really was pregnant now, with the child she and Peter so longed for and would connect them together forever, no matter what lay in the future.  
  
Now, it was truly time for them to face the challenges that lay ahead: studying to be in the service of God, their child, and each other. They would tell the rest of the family, as soon as they returned to the mainland, of their decision to become ministers. This was too important a secret for Lucy alone to bear; and for what it was worth it'd be months before anyone was found.  
  
There was only one thing that nagged at Ruthie and Peter. Ruthie, Deena and Mary had figured out what the motive for the killings was. They also all knew there was only one suspect. Deena and Mary knew who it was, but Ruthie and Peter only knew the person's coded initials, "QE." They had racked their brains for some time trying to figure out what it meant. But none of the names they themselves had come with – which were identical to those Roxanne and Lucy, had – made sense, for the reasons Ruthie's sister and the cop had.  
  
And what possible enemies could Peter have? He wasn't perfect, but his almost guileless nature refused to acknowledge that there were some truly wicked people in the world. He even thought there still had to be some good left in the worst of the worst – even the man over a hundred countries had named their Public Enemy Number One after the 9/11 atrocities.  
  
That night, Peter and Ruthie lay in each other's arms, still withholding from becoming one human being but enjoying the touch of each other's skin. They were asleep now, in a state of semi-unconsciousness and in near total nirvana.  
  
The storm door on the first floor of the bed and breakfast creaked open, and a hooded figure, all dressed in black, broke in. He took off his shoes and left them outside before crossing the threshold. Then, so as not to awaken the hosts, he gently closed the door behind him.  
  
He had once stayed at this home before, while on a weekend getaway. His business required him to relocate from California and work in Honolulu for a year, and one day he felt he just needed to get away from a place he realized was more and more just like any West Coast city. So, having been here before, he knew the locations of each of the rooms – where the guests stayed, the restrooms, the pool hall; as well as the exact number of steps on the staircase and its location. This was so easy: who needed the ductwork?  
  
Having found the stairwell in the darkness, he began tiptoeing up the steps. As he did so, he couldn't believe his luck. Following those two creeps had been his obsession for nearly five years. He had done so from a distance, so as to cover his tracks. And he had some friends on this island, all of whom could help him escape if he had to on a moment's notice.  
  
It was pretty easy, really, especially the last year. Right after Ruthie and Peter started their senior year, he had gotten a job in the accounting office of UCLA. After a month or so of processing invoices, he had checked the careers board and discovered an opening in the admissions office. Two months after that came two applications, postmarked Glen Oak. The return address was the same. Incredibly, Ruthie Camden and Peter Petrovsky were living in the same house.  
  
So it was true, then. Despite all their denials after the beating death of that pervert, Frank Henderson (who got what he deserved), Petrovsky and Camden were still having sex with each other, under the eyes of not one but two ministers. How hypocritical could this family be?  
  
As for all those other couples, it didn't matter. They were living in sin before their marriages, so their deaths were merited. So what if there was no motive other than that? Wycliffe and Hus one day would rise from the ashes and would be quite pleased with what their faithful follower had done. They were in heaven, had access to St. Peter, and would get on the sidelines of the express lane through the pearly gates, rushing him through to the reward he deserved.  
  
As for the sinful world, let them rot in hell. His mission was just. He would have a high place among the angels, right alongside those that the so- called legitimate history had condemned as the worst of the worst. Hitler, Stalin, Pot, Genghis Khan. Those revisionists didn't know what they were talking about. They were the evil ones, not those who had fought against them.  
  
And now, this was his moment. Ruthie Camden and Peter Petrovsky had slipped up. They had chosen a bed and breakfast that just happened to be next door to where this man had been staying on and off for the last three months. He'd take them out. Then, while those fools Eric and Annie Camden mourned the loss of their daughter and son-in-law, he'd go around the country on the mainland; and before those bastards knew what hit them, he'd kill the adult Camdens and their spouses too.  
  
Oh, what the hell; kill their children also: after all, didn't God tell Moses that not only the progeny of relationships outside marriage must be removed from the covenant, but also their progeny all the way to the tenth generation too? Kill the sin at its source. Who cared if they were babies, their baptism was invalid. They were still in original sin and would be till the day they died. And their children, and theirs, and so on and so on – and finally, he'd return to Glen Oak, for the grand finale: he'd kill Annie, Eric and the twins too. The Camden family would be history.  
  
But first things first: Ruthie and Peter. Picking a lock was so easy. Why did this foolish couple, and their friends, even bother staying at hotels that used electronic locks? Hacking one of those systems was like taking candy from a baby. Just go to a different computer, even on the same portal site, to disguise where one was coming from, swipe a blank, duplicate card, and no one would know the difference. And the best part was, once it was all over, he'd be uninfected, totally blameless.  
  
He'd let someone else take the fall – someone in his own family, who was also a sinner and must also die. Worse, she worked for The Government, making her an even greater enemy. But they executed those who killed government employees. He must remain uninfected. He must let her take the fall – after all, she'd be a so much more obvious candidate, someone who knew more about computers and espionage in just a few years than he could learn in his lifetime.  
  
He finally reached Ruthie and Peter's room. This didn't have an electronic lock, why would it? It was just a simple barrel. Peace of cake. He picked it in less than five seconds.  
  
In the shadows, he saw the first double bed. Flat. Empty. He saw the second bed. A hump: perfect. He could take out both in one fell swoop. He reached in his holster, pointed the gun at Peter's head, and said, in a gravely voice which he deliberately disguised:  
  
"It is finished."  
  
He presumed that Peter and Ruthie were asleep. But they were not. They had heard the door open downstairs too, and were now wide awake. Their bodies were shaking – either from fright or resignation.  
  
"Fine," said Peter. "But if you're going to execute us, we ask that you honour one last request."  
  
The man thought this was strange, but as an executioner he thought he ought to oblige.  
  
"Name it."  
  
"Down and to the left ..."  
  
Before he knew what hit him, Ruthie jumped out of bed, and pulled out a crowbar from under the bed, which she had hidden. Hearing Peter's breathing then the burglar's, she followed Peter's instructions, found the mugger's kneecap, and started whacking him over and over.  
  
It was the moment they had been waiting for. They knew that their number was bound to come up, and that they were the intended targets all along. The others may have been collateral damage, but they weren't going to be part of that number; for Peter and his wife had a secret weapon: themselves. As Christians, had they been in the line of fire between themselves and others, they would gladly lay down their lives to save others, taking the bullet to spare the innocent, especially if it meant finding the culprit. But this was different. They were alone, and the butcher of Hawaii would have to put up a mean fight. Ruthie and her husband would not give up their lives that easily. If it was a fight the stalker wanted, it was a fight they'd get.  
  
As Ruthie kept hitting the man in the darkness, alternating between the left and right knees, Peter found the man's throat. Grabbing a garrotte that he had hidden from his side of the bed, Peter wrapped the ligature around the jugular and started strangling the coward. The man was stunned by this attack. He was trapped, had no chance. He was starting to black out. His knees had totally gone from under him under repeated hits from Ruthie; and as he as about to pass into unconsciousness, he begged for mercy. But Ruthie and Peter would have none of it. This wasn't a man for the authorities to deal with, whoever he was. They'd make him pay, personally.  
  
Peter now dragged the man around the bed and toward the closet. He opened the door, as Ruthie followed from behind and was still hitting the man, now on his feet.  
  
A third person, a cop, was waiting inside. She pointed a gun at the man's forehead, and fired a single bullet through the ski-mask. He fell to the floor and died instantly.  
  
Ruthie turned on the lights. It was an awful mess. The man, whoever he was, had been bludgeoned by Ruthie and strangled by Peter so effectively that he would've died anyway from the trauma. The bullet, however, had been necessary to finish the job quickly. The couple were guiltless. Their lives had been in imminent danger, and they had acted in self- defence.  
  
The cop, who had also been wearing a ski mask to conceal her identity, finally pulled it off. It was Theresa.  
  
"Good job, guys!" she said approvingly.  
  
"Thanks," said Ruthie. She appreciated the compliment but was shaking. She didn't know, until this moment, what it was like to take another human life; and even if it had been justified, it frightened her.  
  
"Just one thing," said Peter. "You're with the enforcement division of the EPA. If it wasn't your parents who did this, why did you agree to protect us the last couple of days?"  
  
Theresa had been doing a stakeout of her own. Once she had learned from Roxanne who the real prime culprit was, she sprung into action. Having found Peter and Ruthie, who had been covering their tracks quite well, she had spent the last two days in the walk-in closet, running a round the clock makeshift command center. When the commotion started in the main bedroom, she sprung into action, getting her gun ready just in case.  
  
"Well, it's a long story," said Theresa. "To make it a short one, after my parents disowned me, and I had spent some time with those very nice ladies – um, what were their names – Elizabeth Brown and Carolyn Fulton? – I eventually found a place to stay with my uncle. He took me and my daughter in. That was a big mistake. He started abusing both of us – me sexually and her physically. I ran away from him before he could kill both of us, and cooped up at Elizabeth's until I could find a place of my own. I got a scholarship back east and studied geology, which eventually led to my job at the EPA.  
  
"About a month ago, my parents got busted for dumping a huge amount of bulk oil in a protected marshland. I was the investigating officer, and when I confronted them, they were positively frightened. They couldn't stand facing the daughter they had forsaken. But they also had another problem. Seems my mom's brother – my uncle, the same one who had abused me – had gotten off the deep end, and had joined a commune that ..."  
  
Ruthie and Peter couldn't believe it. It was if they had known it all along.  
  
"Honoured the contributions of the great heretics of the Middle Ages," said Peter, and he and Ruthie started reeling off, alternately, one name after another: "Count Raymond VI of Toulouse..."  
  
"Peter Abelard ..."  
  
"Arnold of Brescia ..."  
  
"Peter Waldo ..."  
  
"Wycliffe ..."  
  
"... and last, but not least, John Hus."  
  
"So, my parents, they made a deal," said Theresa. "They quickly reconciled with me, and agreed to pay a hefty fine to the EPA to avoid a jail sentence; and in exchange they agreed to betray some information the government needed: The last known location of my uncle. And, now, here he lies before us. Allow me to introduce yourself to your tormentor, my despicable uncle, Hawaii's public enemy; mass murderer QE, whose real name is ..."  
  
She turned over the hulk of the corpse, and pulled off the ski mask. Peter and Ruthie gasped. It was someone they had met once before, five years before, when they had both turned thirteen. It was ... it was ...  
  
"DICK!!!!" screamed Peter. "Dick Proctor!!!!"  
  
"He's your UNCLE?" sputtered Ruthie in disbelief.  
  
"Unfortunately," said Theresa, "but yes, he is. Or I should say, was." 


	15. Taxi Driver

Chapter Fifteen  
  
The grilling that Ruthie and Peter were subjected to a few hours later was nothing like they had experienced during the grand jury investigating Frank Henderson a few years before. At least in that case, the teacher had humiliated them, albeit in a sexual way. This time, the police had it in for them.  
  
No one could quite believe that they had it so carefully planned out, that they knew who the attacker was or might be, and that was the night he would make his move. Furthermore, their claims to self-defence seemed preposterous given how brutally they retaliated. Was it really necessary to use a crowbar and a garrotte to kill Dick Proctor? Wouldn't a kick in his private parts have been enough, disabling him just long enough for the cops to book him and get an arraignment for trial? It wasn't like he was facing the death penalty; Hawaii didn't have one – hadn't for decades, in fact.  
  
However, as Ruthie and her husband repeatedly told their interrogators, a gun had been pointed to their heads. Given the viciousness used to maim or kill all the other victims, they would have been foolish not to do something to vindicate their friends; for, in similar circumstances (Peter pointed told the police), they still would have done the same thing. They couldn't take the chance that the gun might be a fake, or that it might be unloaded, or even that he might be bluffing. Given the threats they had faced in earlier points in their lives, their actions were totally justified.  
  
Finally, nine hours later, the police cleared them of any wrongdoing and were told they could go back to their vacation plans. But Peter and his wife had had enough. Even if they were in the right, they still had blood on their hands and they needed to cleanse themselves as fast as they could. They'd take the red-eye back to Los Angeles, that night; which is exactly what they did, along with Lucy, Roxanne and Michaels.  
  
Happy to return to Glen Oak and to their now marital bedroom at the Camdens, Peter and Ruthie made love. When they let go some time later, however, both burst into tears as the realization of the past few weeks came flooding into their heads.  
  
Word about the extraordinary turn of events spread throughout the family, for later the following day, the other married couples in the clan found their way to the manse. Of course, Kevin and Lucy didn't have to go far; they lived a few bedroom doors down from her sister and brother-in-law. The others had flown in during the interim. It was a bittersweet homecoming for all. On the one hand, the five pairs – Matt and Sarah, Mary and Robbie, Simon and Deena, Lucy and Kevin, and now Ruthie and Peter – were all pregnant, and had become so within a short time frame of each other. This left the prospect the women might all give birth very close to each other.  
  
On the other hand, though, Ruthie and Peter had gone through the kind of trauma no vacationing honeymooners deserved to undergo. So the others were there mostly to comfort the newest members of the club, and to reassure them that things could only look up from there on in.  
  
Most of the pairs were engaged in animated conversation. Two people, who weren't talking, were Lucy and Kevin. While Lucy was truly contrite for what she had done with Chandler (and with Roxanne, of course, though Kevin still didn't know about that), Kevin categorically had refused to apologize for having done the deed with Roxie. Lucy slept on the floor the previous night, trying to figure out what her next move would be. She had never contemplated divorce until this point, but under the circumstances, she might not have much choice.  
  
All the young adults shared a few slabs of pizza, which Eric and Annie had ordered in for them before going on a weekend retreat of their own along with the twins. Ginger had come into town and was running between bedrooms taking care of her step-great grandchildren.  
  
As the couples reached the end of the second slab and started on the third, a knock was heard at the door. It was Roxanne, back in her regular uniform. Ruthie let her in, and offered a couple of slices.  
  
"Not now, Ruthie," said Roxie. "I've got to talk to you guys ... and since you're all here, I figured I may as well tell all of you so I don't have to repeat it."  
  
Sensing something was wrong, Ruthie led Roxanne into the living room. The space got quiet.  
  
"We've got a big problem, guys," said Roxanne. "This murder investigation is by no means over."  
  
"What are you talking about?" said Peter. "We clobbered Dick to death!"  
  
"Yes, you did," admitted Roxie; "and while I don't approve of that, you and Ruthie did what you had to do. There's just one problem. The Honolulu police ran a DNA test of Dick Proctor's blood, and compared it to the semen samples which the man who raped two of the female victims – Shelby and Patty Mary. They also compared the bite marks left on some of the male victims who were murdered, and compared the saliva or blood stains to that of Dick – his dental records and his blood, respectively."  
  
"Oh, no," said Deena. "It couldn't be."  
  
"You're not telling us what I think you are," said Sarah in disgust.  
  
"I'm afraid so," said Roxanne. "The same person was responsible for all those murders or attempted murders. But it wasn't Dick Proctor who did it."  
  
"Are you telling us," said Ruthie, her voice rising in anger, "we killed an innocent man?"  
  
"No," said the cop. "He had the intent to kill you and Peter – but you and Peter, alone. He wanted to kill the others, too, but he didn't want to leave a trail. When the others started dropping, he figured it was the perfect alibi just in case we did round him up before you guys got to him – who is what you did."  
  
"The lipstick on the mirror?" asked Peter.  
  
"It wasn't Dick; I can tell you that," said Roxanne, "nor any of the other couple's bedrooms through which the stalker snuck in, for that matter. Dick was 6'2". The vents are such that you'd have to be 5'4" or smaller to fit in. We're talking a small person – not a midget, but a rather petit person."  
  
"What about the locks?" said Robbie. "How did this guy cut electronic keys?"  
  
"It's a lot easier to hack into the CIA's computer that that of a lot of hotels," said Roxie. "But it's not impossible, either. This guy's a genius, or he has a lot of helpers."  
  
"Is there any way this killer – whoever he is – and Dick, could have crossed paths and come to a gentleman's agreement?" Ruthie thought that was ridiculous as soon as she asked it, but still ...  
  
"Who knows?" said Roxie. "We know Dick knew a lot of people in the underground, but trying to penetrate that world is harder than getting into the minds of the Mafia."  
  
"Okay, two questions," asked Peter. "First, if Dick isn't the serial killer, then why did he try to kill Ruthie and me? It wasn't about her and I doing the wild thing at that summer camp."  
  
"Only partly," said the cop. "He was still angry that you broke up his engagement to Paris. When Kevin brought up the court order staying away from any unmarried woman, he vowed that someday he'd get his revenge. He wanted to kill her first, but ... well, you know. Of course, he'd never admit that was his real reason." She didn't want to say what everyone knew: that Vic had killed Paris in a fit of rage, then killed himself. "He just fell into the wrong crowd, a ragtag of religious nuts, and his whole world fell apart from there. He was determined to do whatever it took to find you two again, in the worst possible way, and get you at your most vulnerable."  
  
"Sheez," said Ruthie.  
  
"What was your second question?" asked Roxanne.  
  
Peter had completely forgotten what he wanted to ask his and his wife's friend, but Ruthie instinctively read her husband's mind.  
  
"Don't you think it's just a little weird," she said, "that the night my darling and I were driven from the airport to the hotel, the taxi driver mentioned something about Hawaii's quaint liquor and gambling laws? I mean, we're only eighteen. The drinking age in Paradise is 21, just like on the Mainland. And gambling is illegal there. Wasn't it obvious to the driver we were underage?"  
  
Mary leaned forward. She, like Deena, had been kicking themselves these last few minutes, having gotten it so wrong – at least in part. They were right about Dick, vis-à-vis Ruthie and Peter, but were wrong about the other killings and attempts. They still felt a special closeness to Ruthie, however, and wanted to help her and her husband get to the bottom of this, before school started in just four weeks time.  
  
"Do you remember how this guy looked like, Ruthie?" asked Mary.  
  
"He was a rather bushy looking guy – I don't know, mid-thirties."  
  
"How tall?" said Deena.  
  
"Oh, like that's going to help," said Peter. "When most people sit down, they look about the same height."  
  
"But he helped you unload your bags that night when you got to the hotel," said Matt. "Think ... how tall was he?"  
  
"About ... 5'3"," replied Ruthie. And then, a light shone in her head. In a phone call from a place where Patty Mary and George had gone into hiding, Patty Mary told Ruthie about several distinguishing features of her rapist. One, the fact he was rather short but extremely powerful for a man his size. Second, he had a tattoo – a pentagram. Ruthie recalled the taxi driver had a rather unusual religious mark on his right hand but dismissed it at the time, owing it to Hawaii's extremely diverse ethnic and religious makeup. And third, he had a couple of gold teeth. Ruthie recalled the driver had gold teeth, too.  
  
"Naw," she quickly blurted out loud. "It can't be him. Why would a taxi driver put it all on the line like that?"  
  
"But we can't take any chances," said Peter. "Roxanne, I think you should call the 5-0, and find out about the fare that picked up my wife and me that night. The taxi company should have a record of who picked us up. I think it was Gamma Cabs or something like that."  
  
Roxanne took out her cell phone and made the call. A few minutes later, the call came back. There was no record of a man fitting that description working at Gamma or any other cab company in Honolulu, nor any limousine service. In all likelihood, it was a pirate fare – an unlicensed hackney carriage, in the parlance of the business. This guy had really done his homework.  
  
Matt thought of only one other possibility. "Have the 5-0 compared the killer's DNA profile to what the feds have on file?"  
  
"No matches yet," said Roxanne. "So we're back to square one."  
  
"No, we're not," said Ruthie. Her mind was racing now, trying to stay one step ahead of her new tormentor.  
  
"This guy is still after us, and we have to stop him before he can kill Peter and me, or anyone else. Roxie, call Theresa's parents and see if they know of any of their contacts in the underground that have disappeared lately; as well as those still on the surface. Check their names to see if there are any outstanding warrants for any people matching this creep's description. Oh, and finally, get in touch with Rod and Shelby, wherever they are, and have them call JAG. See if the MPs are looking for any male fitting the same profile who's gone AWOL or has deserted recently."  
  
"Are you sure you want to be a minister, Ruthie? You sound like a cop," said Roxanne, laughing. Everyone else laughed too.  
  
"Hey, even a minister-wannabe has to be flexible," said Ruthie. Her rejoinder was cheerful, but she was as glum as ever and so was Peter. They were supposed to start packing for their move to Los Angeles, and now the chances they would ever make it to La-la Land were getting slimmer than ever before. 


	16. The Girls from Greenwich Village

**Chapter Sixteen**

The parsonage was still teeming with the homecoming of the adult Camden siblings, their spouses and their respective children three days later. But they were there for another reason: the first year of university for Ruthie and Peter was now only four weeks away, and they were there to help the newlyweds pack as much as to help untangle their frayed nerves.

Somehow, the husband and wife were able to calm down enough to focus on the future. They were also feeling exhilaration, for a second pregnancy test – this one done by Ruthie's family doctor – confirmed she was indeed pregnant. They decided to do what they did best. They made sweet, passionate love in their marital bedroom, making sure the door was locked behind them. Ruthie remembered the time she snuck into her parents' bedroom – which was now theirs for the next couple of weeks – and saw her parents do the wild thing. She was more than two years away from her first period and in a state of wonder that her parents were so crazy for each other at their age, let along witnessing the act herself for the first time.

She was reflecting on this, a full ten minutes after she and Peter climaxed, when the phone rang.

"Camden – I mean Kinkirk residence."

"Ruthie, is that you?"

"This is Ruthie Petrovsky Camden. Who is this?"

"Ruthie, c'mon, you don't remember me? This is Shana Sullivan."

"Shana?" Ruthie, totally unclothed and still perspiring from both a cold sweat and a hot passion from her shared experience with her husband, rolled out of bed and was now standing up. Peter was totally spent and didn't even notice his wife was no longer next to him. "Wow, it's so good to hear from you. How's Brett?"

Brett was the man Shana had slept with behind Matt's back, while he was still dating her. She later got engaged and married to him.

"Divorced," said Shana, grimly. "I caught him having an affair with someone else. That's karma for you."

"From what my brother told me, you and him were drifting apart anyway," said Ruthie. "Matt and Sarah love each other very much, Shana. If you ever find a way to be all friends, that'd be great."

"We _are _friends. Besides, I didn't call to catch up with Matt. I wanted to talk to you – Ruthie."

"Why?"

"Well, you're not going to believe this, but I kind of got sick of medical school towards the end. I graduated, but I found being in residence was taking a real toll on me. So, as it turns out, were three old friends of mine, and all former flames of Matt: Heather, Connie and Cheryl ... to be more precise. We were getting together in a café in Manhattan about once a week and finding we had more common interests than we imagined. Between our training in our respective fields, we found we had enough to go into business together. So we formed the Greenwich Chicks Detective Agency."

"You're kidding me?" said Ruthie. Still holding on to the cordless handset, she had now walked across the room, took her night coat off the hook hanging on the bedroom door, and put it around herself.

"I'm serious," said Shana. "We took some additional training and are now licensed private investigators. And after Matt called me last night and told me about your and Peter's predicament, we decided to offer our services."

"No disrespect," said Ruthie, "but Peter and I can take care of ourselves. Roxanne, Kevin and Michaels are working the case and, now, so is JAG. They're not going to appreciate you guys – I mean, you gals –putting on your trench coats and stepping on their toes."

"Actually, I should correct myself," said Shana. "We're not offering, we're insisting. Heather's on her way to the West Coast right now. Connie and Cheryl will fly in tonight and I'm coming tomorrow. We're going to go over Kevin and Roxie's notes and see if we can't read something between the lines."

"We can't afford to pay you. And I'm pretty sure Matt and Sarah can't either even with their salaries as residence doctors."

"We're doing this _pro bono,"_ said Shana. "Matt helped all four of us out of a jam years ago. We're returning the favour."

"Well, all right," said Ruthie in resignation. By this time, she had walked down to the kitchen and was pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee. "But I can't see how you guys can help us. This serial killer is so elusive that my husband and I were horrified that we killed the wrong man; even if he _was_ trying to murder _us."_

"That's just my point," said Shana. "I don't want you guys getting into any more trouble. Let us do the work for you. You have to get ready for UCLA, and more important, you have to think about being parents in college."

"Fine, come on over," said Ruthie. "I'll tell Peter. He'll want to know your stories though – I mean, you were the four women Matt wanted to sleep with the most before he found Sarah. Come to think of it, he _did _sleep with Heather."

The conversation ended there before Ruthie could get herself entangled more. When Peter awoke, he said he had no problem getting extra help. After all, it took the combined efforts of their and many of Lucy's classmates to bring down a child molester.

The next day, once all the women had arrived in Glen Oak, Roxanne and Kevin (now back at work but under careful scrutiny by Michaels) were less than thrilled to open their files to the private eyes, but finally did out of Roxie's loyalty to Lucy's youngest sister. The cops made copies, one for each of the four, but insisted that the data was to be used on an "eyes only" basis and any further discoveries would be solely on a need to know basis. It was an idle threat, for by that time the case had gone completely cold. Protestations to the contrary, Kevin knew he and his partner now needed all the help they could get.

Another four days passed by, as the Greenwich Chicks gathered in the garage apartment (where they were bunking during their stay on the West Coast) and poured through the files. It seemed hopeless. They were as stumped as the cops were. Finally, as they were getting ready to pack up and go back to New York City, Connie thought of something interesting.

"Hey, guys," said Connie, "I never thought about it before, but I seem to remember my high school prom. I really was the high school harlot and I was shocked when Matt asked me out."

"Why are you thinking about that?" said Cheryl.

"Oh, I don't know. Matt and I had a great summer together. In fact, it was the best time I ever had with a guy because I never did sleep with him."

"What's your point?" asked Heather.

"What if this isn't about Ruthie and Peter, or her siblings? What if this is about her parents?"

"We've been over that," said Shana. "Everyone that Eric and Annie tried to help out has been vetted. They're either dead, or have relocated, or have a rock solid alibi."

"There is one person they haven't checked out ... at least, not yet."

Connie pulled out a photograph. It showed one of Ruthie's favourite teachers, Mrs. Riddle and her husband on their wedding day. Of course, they checked out because they were on extended vacation in Europe using a EURAIL ™ pass, visiting nearly every country on the continent. But it was one person behind them, apparently goofing off to ruin an otherwise classy black and white picture. She passed it over to Shana. She gasped.

"You know him?" asked Connie.

"Yes." Shana picked up the phone and called the police station. Roxanne answered the phone. She took down the name. It sounded ridiculous, but at this stage, even a long shot was worth pursuing.


	17. Spy Witness

**Chapter Seventeen**

Two days later, on the shores of the Mississippi River, two young Marines wearing their civvies were taking a leisurely late evening stroll. It was the next to last night of leave for Rod Parker and Shelby Connor, and the couple had somehow managed to deal with the shock of being attacked in Paradise. Here in Saint Louis, in the unofficial capital of the Mid-West, they managed to find some real peace of mind. The Grand Canyon helped, but being in a real world city also gave them some focus. They decided that, if they ever got the chance to really settle down, they would choose this city to live in.

As they made a turn towards the hotel, an official-looking black car opened up. The sentry sitting next to the driver got out, stepped to the back of the car, and swung that door open; with apparent difficulty, it seemed to the couple, until they realized the entire car was armour plated. A woman, in her fifties, stepped out.

"Lance Corporal Connor? Lieutenant Parker?"

"Yes?" asked Shelby, a little apoplectic.

"Colonel Jameson, JAG. Get in."

Not daring to ask any questions, the couple followed the orders. The government car took them about a five minute drive. When it came to a stop, Rod realized they had been driven to the main tourist attraction in Saint Louis: the Gateway Arch., or more accurately, the visitor centre.

"Excuse me, Colonel," said Shelby, "permission to speak frankly?'

"Granted," said Jameson.

"This place is closed, ma'am. Why were we driven here?"

"A top government official wanted to meet you here, after hours. The site has been secured, so there will be no interruptions. Step inside, and take either tram to the top. You will understand what this is about, when you get to the top."

"Is this related to the Honolulu file?" asked Rod.

"I can't tell you any more. Mind you, I can't force you to go up there, but the person who wishes to speak to you pulled a lot of connections to arrange this meeting. I trust you would not want to disappoint that person."

Rod and Shelby shrugged, stepped out and followed the instructions. When they stepped off the tram and headed for the observation area, they were greeted by someone who looked oddly familiar except for his dark glasses. When he took them off, the Marines recognized him instantly.

"Good evening, officers," said the man. "Will Grayson, CIA."

The two didn't need the introduction, but shook his hands anyway.

"Why did you want to meet us here, Mr. Grayson?" asked Shelby.

"I have some information related to the Honolulu investigation," said Will. "It's the same information that Roxanne Richardson has, and I think it's only fair to share it with you. It was better to do it here, because your hotel room isn't safe."

"Are you saying we're being stalked?" Rod was stunned.

"You are, and so are Ruthie and Peter," said Will. "Roxie's giving them the same lowdown right now, in a secure location in Glen Oak. Your normal station that you are returning to is not safe, at least not right now."

"Excuse me, Will, let me get this straight," said Shelby. "Are you saying the person who is doing this, or might be doing this, is a Marine?"

"Not exactly," said Will. "We had an initial new suspect that Roxanne learned about the other day, one that she pursued with the help of the 5-0 and JAG. He looked really promising. In fact, it turns out, he _is_ a Marine, but one with a very troubled past."

"Who is he?"

"A number of years back; in fact many years ago, there was a kid in your hometown who held up a grocery store, intending to shoot the clerk. A man jumped in the way to take the bullet. He pled guilty to manslaughter and did three years in juvenile."

"Are you talking about Martin – I can't think of his last name – the guy that verbally blew off the poor man's widow the day Annie and Eric renewed their wedding vows?" Shelby knew exactly who Will was referring to; in fact he had worked part time as a tutor and once helped her with math when she was in the fifth grade.

"That's him," said Will. "After he got out several weeks later, he changed his identity. Apparently, right after that, he suddenly realized what he had done, got remorseful, and he completely changed his attitude. He made peace with Nora Chambers; in fact, being parentless and with her having no children, she took him in as a foster child."

"No way," said Shelby.

"Way," replied Will. "Like Annie's late father, Charles, Nora is a government contractor. She handles backup computer files for Veterans' Affairs. With her connections, she was able to persuade the Marines that Martin no longer posed a risk to anyone, and he enlisted. He's been posted mostly overseas, but he does return for four weeks each year to keep in touch with her."

"That's nice of him," said Rod. "So what does he have to do with this nightmare that we and Ruthie and Rod – and I guess now, George and Patty Mary have had to put up with?"

"Several weeks ago, Martin went on his annual leave. Only, he didn't go see Nora as per custom. He said he had business to take care off, but would see her soon. His last reported sighting was somewhere in London."

"So then," said Shelby, "he then finds his way back to Honolulu, just snaps, and goes back to his old routine?"

"I _didn't_ say that," said Will. "Martin had to keep a low profile because, while he has posed as a Marine, he is not one. He works for the CIA – in fact, he's my assistant."

"Does Nora know that?"

"She does now, but we've sworn her to secrecy, even enlisting her as a paid informant. Naturally, Roxanne thought he was the perfect suspect because of his unexplained disappearance the last few weeks. But you know this better than even I do; that a spy always tries to cover his or her tracks. You would know that, because both of you have applied for jobs with the DIA, hoping to settle down and have a family and work at their field office here in Saint Louis."

"How do you know that?" asked Rod in shock.

"I'm a _spy,"_ said Will. "It's my business to know everything about everyone that I'm protecting or pursuing, even better than they know themselves."

"So Roxanne knows the truth now?"

"Of course she does, and so do Kevin and everyone else with a need to know."

"Then what, exactly, has Martin been doing?"

"He's been going after a spy who turned bad – to the other side, in fact. A year ago, we found out he had been selling secrets for years to someone fronting for a terrorist group based in North Korea and backed by that country's government. It would be simple enough just to take him out, except that after committing treason, he then went insane. He felt that his son betrayed him for no apparent reason, so he would take it out by dealing harshly with anyone remotely connected to the son. So he makes sure that his estranged wife 'mysteriously' gets cancer and dies from it. Then he targets the family that once took him in at his most desperate. Finding the family is well insulated, he goes after that family's friends."

"The boy you're talking about ... is it someone we know?" asked Shelby.

"You know him very well," said Will, "for he is now Mary Camden's ..."

"... _Husband?"_

"Yes," said Will. "The man Martin has been trailing is Robbie Palmer's father, Ed. He's a master of disguise, but we've been tracking him and he's here in this city, tonight. Your bags have already been collected and are waiting in a taxi back on the ground. You will be flown tonight to a secret location you will find out about when you get there, until we can deal with him in our own way. For their protection, Ruthie and Peter are being flown to a second location, and Patty Mary and my son to a third. If you need to contact them or me for any reason, call this number; and this number alone."

Will gave them a card. It did not say "CIA," of course, but rather something like "Boa Epsilon Construction Company."

"What about our posts?" asked Rod.

"Your commanding officer has been fully debriefed also, and you are on extended leave until this is settled. I must ask you, do not try to find Ed Palmer yourself. He is extremely deranged and dangerous. For that matter, if you do come across Martin, do not approach him. He's been after Ed for years and really, really wants to finish him off and does not want to be impeded in any way. This is not a man who deserves the benefit of a fair trial. He must be destroyed, and the sooner the better."

"One last thing," said Shelby. Will had been walking to the other tram, indicating the conversation was near finished. "What does Nora Chambers think of all this?"

"Well, given the fact Martin killed her husband, she doesn't exactly approve of him wanting to kill another human being," said Will. "But since Ed has killed many more and raped you, Shelby, she understands why Martin would take it so personally and want to get the job done. Again, I must ask you, please let us do our jobs – CIA, JAG, the 5-0 and the Glen Oak Police. We are at a critical juncture and once Ed realizes what we're up to, he'll be on the move again. He knows more about espionage than just about anyone in the American intelligence community. He's slipped through our fingers several times, and we can't afford to let it happen again, or let him kill again."

Shelby nodded. She shook Will's hand, as did Rod. Quietly, the couple held hands, headed for the second tram, and found the cab waiting for them to go to a specially chartered private jet. As they headed to heaven knew where, Shelby and Rod quietly prayed that The Government they had actually come to privately resent these past few weeks hadn't lost its momentum after all.


	18. Board Meeting

**Chapter Eighteen**

Lucy Camden Kinkirk was sitting in the church's main meeting room across from the church's five Deacons: Lou, Brian, Susan, Heather and Edward. She had called this unscheduled meeting to let them know about a decision she had come to.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "a few weeks ago, something happened that required me to re-evaluate my life, and my career as a minister. I also had to consider what is best for my family, especially my children; as well as for the good of the congregation. I have come to a very difficult but necessary decision. I am offering my resignation as the Minister of Glen Oak Community Church."

For a minute, there was an awkward silence. The Deacons weren't sure they heard that right. Finally, Lou spoke up.

"Luce, I don't understand. Why?"

"In the past few months," the minister replied, "I have been unfaithful to my husband on two separate occasions. The first was with the former Associate Minister here, Chandler Hampton. The second was with my friend and Chandler's wife, Roxanne Richardson. I've never wanted to admit it until now, but I've come to the realization of what I am. I go both ways."

"And?" asked Sue rhetorically.

"That's it," said Lucy. "I had sex with two people who weren't my husband, and I liked it. One of those people was a woman. Do I have to spell out to you what I did with them?"

"We are quite aware of what you've done," said Ed. "Chandler talked to us about it about a week ago. He figured that's why you wanted to meet with us today, which is why he excused himself from this meeting. Roxanne told him the whole story, about her and Kevin, then her and you; soon after you, Roxie and the gang returned from Hawaii. She told him, quite bluntly, that both you and she are – um – bisexual. Chandler forgave her, and she forgave him for his infidelity, but they realized their marriage was at an impasse and they couldn't take it anymore. So, he and Roxanne have filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences."

"He knows Roxanne slept with me?" Lucy cringed.

"Yeah," replied Heather.

"And she knows he slept with me, too?"

"Yes."

"What about their daughter? I mean, both their children – Roxie's pregnant, after all."

"They've agreed, for the sake of their children, to joint custody," said Susan. "Chandler's accepted a job back East, at a church in the Bronx; and he used his connections to help Roxanne get a job as an investigator with the Manhattan District Attorney. They're moving at the end of the month just as Ruthie and Peter start school.

"From what they tell me, they're still going to live in the same house, just in separate bedrooms. They don't want to traumatize little Catherine any more than she already is with her problems and all. Turns out they found the perfect program to help her with her learning disability. Apparently, it's had great success."

"Well, at least they can still be friends," said Lucy, "although that living arrangement kind of reminds me of the one Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson had even after they divorced. But Roxanne and I are friends. Why didn't she tell me?"

"I guess she still hasn't gotten over her telling Chandler the truth," said Lou. "She needs to come to terms with herself before she can mend the breach with you."

"I don't know what breach there could be," said Lucy sarcastically. "She and I got as close as two women can possibly get."

"Regardless," said Brian, "we're not going to accept your resignation. You're a human being, and you made a mistake. Presidents have done worse things than you and they didn't have to resign."

"Politicians are members of the _Second_ Estate," pointed out Lucy. "I'm a member of the _First."_

"Meaning?" asked Lou.

"A call to serve God is always more important than the call to serve the people. I failed my God."

"You've shown genuine contrition for your mistakes, and that's all God asks of you," said Sue. "There are many ministers, politicians and public servants, people in general, who reject God totally. Call Him God, Allah, Yahweh, the Grand Architect, the Great Spirit – whatever. People are out there who live their lives as if everything is relative. Others go out there with their faith on their sleeves believing that God is on their side. You, on the other hand, have said many times you want to walk in the footsteps of Jesus. You want to be on the side of God.

"And that makes you very _different. _And when I go to the polls, read about the issues, makes decisions in my own life – just the rest of us around this table – I ask myself, 'What Would Jesus Do?' And by that, I mean not what _others think_ Jesus would do, not what _others tell_ me to do, but what _I think_ Jesus would do. I might be right, I might be wrong. But if at the end of the day all things considered I have put myself at the side of God, rather than having Him on my side, that's all that matters. We are justified by our faith, and it is through that faith that God forgives our sins, no matter how society may view them. Even ministers like yourself."

"But I tripped up in the worst possible way," said Lucy, on the verge of tears. "Jesus would never have condoned something like this. I'm not worthy to be His servant; not anymore, anyway."

"Who in this damn world _are," snapped Lou, "_those stupid televangelists; the politicians who proudly proclaim their contempt for Muslims; the people who serve at soup kitchens but live contemptible lives the rest of the week?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, Luce, your husband is a cop. He regularly busts people for minor drug offences. And he grumbles all the time that they're probably going to get way more time for possessing a mere 90 grams of cocaine for his or her own personal use, than the corporate scion who steals _90 million dollars_ from his or hers' employees pension fund. Who has done more harm to the world? By right, the drug addict should be given a chance to turn his or her life around and the big-shot should be rotting away in a damp dark cell. In the real world, we've been scared into thinking that druggie is the worst threat. You had sex with only three human beings: your husband, your former colleague, and a woman who happens to be his wife. Who gives a damn?"

"A lot of my parishioners aren't as opened minded as you are," said Lucy. "Most of the rest are, but there are a lot of people who think people like me should be burned at the stake! And, for what it's worth, Roxanne slept with a woman before."

"You don't think many of your parishioners are that way? You don't think we've cheated on our spouses?" asked Heather. She glanced sideways at Susan. Susan nodded back and winked.

"Oh no," said Lucy. "Not you two?"

"Ten years ago," said Susan. "Both of us were in the seven year itch stage. Eventually we broke it off and admitted the truth to our respective husbands. They forgave us and that was the end of it."

"In fact," said Lou, "we're all guilty of adultery. On that basis, it'd be high handed of us to demand your resignation, or accept one from you. We're not even going to put you on probation. However, your parishioners do ask a higher standard of you. So take the advice that Jesus gave to Saint Mary Magdalene when he chased away those who would have stoned her: 'Go and do not sin again.'"

"The prostitute that Jesus forgave and Mary Magdalene was not the same woman," pointed out Lucy, laughing. _"The DaVinci Code _may be a load of baloney, but that's one point Mr. Brown got right."

She sobered up, and then continued, "Of course, Mary Magdalene was a sinner as well, but that she was chosen to be the _first _person Jesus spoke to after his Resurrection proved she was an even more faithful disciple than the Twelve Apostles, and more proof than any that women should be ordained."

"Our sentiments exactly," said Heather, "which is why we hired you in the first place. She was definitely the _most_ faithful disciple. If I had it my way, she would have been the first to lead the church, not Saint Peter."

"Maybe I'm following more in _her _footsteps than that of Jesus. Regardless, Lou, you're right. I can't do that again – with a man or a woman."

"One thing more," added Lou. "Tell Kevin. He needs to know the truth – soon. I know you love him, and sometimes loving someone means facing up to your darkest secrets. Tell your parents too. You're an adult and you can make your own decisions, but Annie and Eric have the right to know if their daughter has been sleeping around."

"Thanks, guys," said Lucy. She rose from her place at the table, followed by the Deacons.

"Oh, one more thing," said Ed. "How are Ruthie and Peter?"

"I don't know where they are. All I know is that they're under CIA protection; as are Shelby and Rod; and Patty Mary and Uncle George. The CIA isn't exactly the kind of people I'd want to protect _me, _but they must know something."

"You know who the assassin is?"

"Kevin and Roxie told me, but I'm under court order not to say anything. Chances are, you've probably figured out who it is anyway."

"No," said Heather, "and even if we knew we wouldn't endanger your sister and brother-in-law, or their friends and certainly not your uncle and Kevin's sister."

"Thanks," said Lucy. "Well, at least I now know what my sermon will be for this Sunday. 'Be Not the Hypocrite, Like Me.'"

The group left, leaving Lucy alone. _How am I going to explain to my precious Kevin, _she asked herself, _that I'm that way?_

She pulled out her desk reference Bible, and pulled it open at random. The page landed on Ecclesiastes, her finger touching Chapter 3. She began reading, "To everything there is a season ..."


	19. Modus Operandi

**Chapter Nineteen**

Shana, Cheryl, Connie and Heather were having Chinese take-out at their Greenwich Village office. While Ruthie had asked them to let the cops do their job before she and Peter went into hiding, the Greenwich Chicks were having none of it. They wanted to get to Ed Palmer before he got to the couples – or to them.

Shana, Cheryl and Connie were going through a lot of case files, but they couldn't figure out where Ed was, where he had been, or where he was going next. Heather, meanwhile, was using her computer hacking skills to try to break into NCIC. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of trying, she got in.

"Okay," she said in her lisping voice. "I got into the FBI."

"What are you looking for?" asked Connie.

"Cold cases, especially in vacation spots," replied Heather. "I can't believe Palmer is just after Ruthie and Peter. I've got a gut feeling he's done this before."

"What are you getting at?" asked Cheryl.

"Exactly what I'm saying," said Heather. "It just doesn't make sense that he'd just kill his ex-wife and a few of Rev. Camden's family's friends. Will Grayson told me that there's a whole unit of people in the CIA made up just of psychopaths and insane people. They have to be kept under control. When they get out of the grasp of their controllers, they just go on a rampage ..."

"... and betray their country," sighed Shana.

"Yeah."

Heather turned aside, took a spring roll, and bit angrily into it.

"If I could find this guy," she said, "I'd strangle him personally."

"We all would," said Connie, "but we're not soldiers of fortune."

"Don't you wish we were?"

"No," said Cheryl. "Killing people are not in our nature. It's not even our business. We're licensed private investigators, and our sole responsibility is to investigate people. If we make findings of criminality, we turn them over to the authorities and let them handle it."

"I found it," said Heather. "I knew there's a connection."

Heather started printing off one file after another, and passed one stack each to the other three women while Heather herself kept a fourth. It was unbelievable.

In several other destination places – San Francisco, Las Vegas, Miami and San Juan – the police were baffled by a string of unsolved murders and rapes. The _modus operandi_ was different in each of the murders in each city; but they all followed a strange pattern: strangulation, bludgeoning, decapitation, poisoning, and rape in broad daylight – in no particular order. Not all cities had the same MO, but all had at least one unsolved sexual assault and one unsolved murder.

"We can't be sure it's Ed Palmer, though," said Shana. "It may be just a sick coincidence."

"Look at the rape victims, well, those who lived to tell about it," said Connie, comparing her notes to those being reviewed by the other women. "Semen samples taken from them indicate their attacker had a very rare blood type: AB Positive."

"Robbie is AB Positive," said Cheryl in disbelief.

"How do you know?"

"We slept together, remember? As a rule of thumb, you don't reveal your blood type to your partner until _after_ you've had sex with him or her."

"You're right! He is AB ," said Heather. "A couple of months back before all of this started, when they had that subway accident in the Bronx, the Red Cross needed emergency supplies of blood. So I went to a clinic, and Robbie was there too. He and Mary were in town for a few days visiting Matt and Sarah, and responded to the call. I was next to him, and I remembered them pricking his fingers since it was the first time he ever gave blood. Sure enough, both the A and B vials came up positive. Which meant he was either AB or AB -."

"But, still, about 1 or 2 of the population has AB blood," said Connie. "That narrows it down a bit, but it still doesn't mean Ed Palmer is responsible for _all_ of these crimes."

"It's more like 3.5," replied Heather. "But he had the motive."

"What motive?" retorted Connie. "These crimes have no motive whatsoever. We're talking about a guy who's pretty much the next Charles Manson or Son of Sam."

"No, there's got to be something. Manson and Berkowitz had a very definite rhyme and reason to what they did."

Heather knew there was something else to this. But she returned to her food, as did the other women. Another fifteen minutes passed by, the silence interrupted only by the occasional crunching and slurping.

"Wait a minute," said Cheryl. "Robbie and his brothers asked for the coroner in Fort Lauderdale for the autopsy report regarding their mother's death, but they never got it. They still haven't received it after all these years. Do you think, maybe ...?"

Connie jumped up and pulled out one of the big brown file boxes marked "Ruthie/Peter – East Coast." She rummaged through it, and found a sealed manila envelope. It was marked, "Undeliverable, no such person – RETURN TO SENDER." The addressee had been scratched out, but through the faded marker Connie could clearly see it had been addressed to Robbie. Evidently, Ed Palmer had intercepted the envelope and returned it before going off on the mission where he turned traitor for good.

"Where did you get this?" asked Heather in surprise.

"Broward County Coroner," said Connie. "I've been following this case personally for years, out of friendship to the Camdens. Apparently, they made subsequent attempts to deliver this to Robbie, but they too were intercepted. So they held on to it until something else came up. Two days ago, on a hunch, I asked them for it. So they delivered it and – I don't know – I must have put it in Ruthie's file by accident."

"Except we now know for sure that Ed Palmer was behind this," said Cheryl.

"I've been reluctant to open it, because I thought Robbie and his bros deserved the first chance to read this. But since we've got nothing to lose ..."

Connie carefully removed the gum backing of the top of the envelope, and gingerly removed the report. It was a horrifying site. There was a naked fifty-something woman, tied to her bed by her arms and legs with yachting rope, and sadistically cut in numerous parts of her body with a razor blade. She was smothered unconscious by a very large dose of Halon – a fire retardant. She had next been brutally raped, while unaware, by a man with AB blood. And the cause of death – overdoses of potassium chloride and sodium thiopental.

"Wait a minute," said Heather. "Aren't those the drugs they use in lethal injections?"

"You got it," said Connie. "And according to this, Mrs. Palmer was injected with precisely the amount of barbiturates they use in executions in the State of Florida."

"And what was Mrs. Palmer's job in the early 1980s, years before Florida changed its method of execution from the electric chair to lethal injection?" asked Cheryl.

"Deputy Chief Electrician of the Florida prison system," said Shana. "She and her boss were in charge of making sure the electric chair worked without torturing the people it killed. It rarely did, so she went around other states who had adopted drugging as their method of execution, in the hopes of lobbying her state to change its method. Not that that particular means also has its problems – but still, she would have known the exact amount of drugs needed to ensure death."

"As would, oddly enough, Ed Palmer," added Heather, "since he is – was – a hired gun for the CIA. She would have told him the amounts needed during pillow talk. Years later, he'd used that information to murder her."

"But the cause of death was listed as cancer," said Connie. "How was this kept from Robbie?"

"Actually, Mrs. Palmer was in remission at the time of her death," said Heather. "When he identified the body, everything except her face was covered; and he insisted on a closed coffin. He never asked the cause of death at the time, he was in too much grief. When he was able to cope better, he asked for the report, which is when all the funny business started."

"That doesn't mean Ed Palmer is our guy," warned Connie.

"Oh, yes it does," said Shana. She pulled up the medical report regarding the rapes of the women in the other cities who had escaped by the skin of their teeth. Literally, since on the way to the hospital, they all had had heart attacks, caused by trace amounts of ...

"... Potassium chloride." Heather shook her head.

"And, for what it's worth, Shelby Connor says she was smothered by a fire retardant as she fought off being slashed with a stiletto."

"So it all fits," said Cheryl. "Do we tell the cops what we know?"

"No," said Connie. "We're going to use our smarts, locate Peter and Ruthie ourselves, and warn them."

"They're in hiding," said Shana. "We'll never find them."

"If you were on the run from the law, where's the one place you'd want to be – where the cops couldn't get you no matter what they tried?"

"A house or building that's right on an international border," said Heather quickly. "The cops in one country couldn't fire because they'd violate the other country's sovereignty. If you're the suspect and you cross the border, that other country has to go through the extradition process which can go on for years."

"And under the treaty that the United States and Canada has," added Connie, "Canada can withhold extradition until they assurances from the Americans they'll take the death penalty off the table. Meantime, he lives in Canada, living off their social welfare system."

"Any suggestions where we should look, Connie?" asked Cheryl.

"I can only think of three places that would fit the description Heather's come up with. Portal, on the Saskatchewan/Montana line; Forest City, on the New Brunswick/Maine line ... no, they're too obvious. The Mounties would get their man without breaking a sweat. No, there's only other place in North America that fits the mold. A town that existed long before the border was settled in the 1840s."

"Derby Line, Vermont; and Rock Island, Quebec."

Faster than one could say "New York Minute," the four women ran out the door, into Connie's convertible, and made the long drive up to their destination. It didn't take long for them for their hunch to be confirmed; for inside a 200 year old house that straddled the border, three men and three women were tied up to each other in a circle. The women were on the American side, the men on the Canadian. A man laughing sadistically was holding them at the point of a syringe stuffed with lethal injection barbiturates. Outside, riot squads, one from each country, had surrounded the manor.

"Okay," said Ed Palmer, "I'm going to make you all three of you battle axes grieving pregnant widows. So, who's the first husband to die?"


	20. Classic Confrontation

**Chapter Twenty**

Ruthie and Peter, Rod and Shelby, George and Patty Mary; all three couples were furious that their so-called minders had slipped up so badly. The three couples were supposed to be kept in separate locations around the United States. Due to a paperwork mix-up, however, they ended up in the same hotel in Plattsburgh, New York, not that far from Montréal. By an incredibly terrible coincidence of bad luck, Ed Palmer, who was supposed to meet with his North Korean contact that same day, was staying in the exact same hotel. When he saw the six sitting down for dinner at the hotel, he pulled out his CIA-issue revolver and held the entire dining room at gunpoint. He then pointed it at the three couples and waved them out of the hotel and into his van.

A few hours later, after taking a circuitous route to confuse the authorities, Ed drove into the border-town. With the same gun, he chased the frightened residents out and forced the three couples in. Ruthie was grumbling something about drat the luck.

It was now hour seven of the stand-off. Ed had untied the binds tying the six together, and they were now sitting in a semi-circle facing each other and around Ed, but he was still astride the border, and still holding the needle in his hand, still demanding a volunteer among the men of who would be the first to die. He was running out of patience, almost at the point he would just pick one at random.

Suddenly, Shelby spoke up. "Take me."

"Excuse me?" said Ed.

"Take me. Go ahead, and kill me first."

"No," said Ed, "it's the men that are going to go. I know enough to save the women, especially the pregnant ones. If you weren't pregnant, I would kill you, but as a hunter I have a duty to protect the cubs."

"So that's what we are to you," said Ruthie angrily, "animals?"

"Do you have any sense of decency, Palmer?" added Patty Mary. "We're supposed to get on with the rest of our lives, and you're just going to take that away from us. Can you give us one good reason why? Especially after you murdered the mother of your sons?"

"The LORD is my shepherd ..." intoned Ed.

"The hell he is!" snapped George. "You and I both work for the same idiot; or at least we both used to, it's just me now, and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it. What made you turn against your own country? And what could possibly make you turn against people who most other people would be glad to have as friends?"

"Okay, since you're asking that question, I suppose it deserves a straight answer," replied Ed. "Two years ago, one of my contacts at MI-6 – you know, British Foreign Intelligence – told me that a terrorist was about to secretly travel to the States to meet with his under links in preparation.

"He would be disguised as your average tourist, and said that since I was stationed near the rendezvous point, I was in the best position to take him out. I track him down and _he_ turns the tables on _me. _The next thing I know, I'm served with an extradition warrant to answer charges of tax evasion in France. Seems that I have a yen for gambling and one night I won big in Monaco."

"Aren't gaming winnings tax free in most of the rest of the world?" asked Peter.

"The principle, yes, but if you earn an income off of that, then it is taxed. I parked the money in a bank account in Paris thinking it'd be there for just a few days while I got my ducks in a row for my next mission, trying to assassinate the North Korean leader. In my euphoria in winning the money, though, I used my real name on the account instead of my CIA code name. And the money was left unattended for four years."

"What does that have to do with us?" asked Ruthie.

"The agent who busted me is someone you busted ages ago. Guillaume."

"_Guy?"_ Ruthie laughed. "That rude, smoking – I'm not going to use the word."

"On the flight over to face the charges, he had his arm shackled to mine in case I tried to make a break for it. He mentioned something about spending time in America, and how your family blew him off. I then remembered my son Robbie spending time at the Camdens. I couldn't believe it was one and the same family."

"If I recall correctly, Ed, Guy was the one who blew us off, not the other way around."

"Whatever."

"That still doesn't explain why you betrayed your country, and why you want to kill us," said Rod.

"Guy's then current flame was someone in the Gendarmerie who was in charge of security for the North Korean _chargé d'affaires _in Paris. Let's just say that that woman also had a special relationship with the _chargé_. The North Koreans had been attempting for years to infiltrate the CIA, and wanted to keep a low profile, so they set up a monitoring post in Paris. It's a long story, but everyone has a price, and they met mine. They asked for documents, which I gave them. They asked for ways around the firewalls of some of America's biggest banks, which I gave them.

"And they asked for one other thing. To kill people at random to confuse the authorities, while they completed the penetration of the CIA and I personally delivered what they were really after – long standing invasion plans for an American attack of North Korea from the South."

"Wait a minute," said Peter. "Why would Guy want to collaborate with you on that?"

"He also had a price. Basically, by the time he and I got back to Paris, he more or less made sure the documents were shredded so there was no proof that I had intended to defraud the tax authorities. He has friends within the terrorist community, so they'll never find him even if they tried."

"And why the six of us?" asked Rod in desperation.

"That was Guy's _quid pro quo,_ kill Ruthie and five of her friends, and in return he'd look the other way as I became a turncoat for the other side; and pretended that he never met me."

"Well, as I said," replied Shelby, "that'll all well and good, but if you're going to kill someone, it's going to have to be me, Ed; because when you raped me, you robbed me of everything that I am and have; as well as my dignity, my self-worth, my hopes and my dreams. I can no longer feel pleasure with Rod, in fact I can feel nothing at all when he and I make love. There is no point in having any more children if I know those children weren't conceived in love. But what's worse, you robbed me of my ability to have compassion for anyone else. If you asked Patty Mary, she'd tell you that's the same thing that happened to her when you attacked her."

Patty Mary nodded. During Shelby's recitation, she was slowly removing one article of clothing at a time, in front of all the others.

"Besides, how far can I go in an organization like the Marines, when their unofficial motto is, 'A few good men'? I am not a man with a womb. What's the point in living anymore? What's the point of my unborn child entering a world where there is no love anymore, where everyone's patriotism is questioned, where the motto of most preachers is 'Clam it and grab it,' in short, what's the point, period? At least you walked away from The Government. I AM The Government, the one you hate so much. Go ahead, I have nothing to lose."

Shelby had now unfinished dressing, and was standing legs apart, one foot on the Canadian side of the border, the other on the American. She was only three feet away from her tormentor.

"I'll even let you rape me one more time before you kill me," she added. "There's just one thing you should remember, however."

"What's that?" asked Ed.

"I'm having YOUR baby."

Ed dropped the syringe, in total shock. At the same moment, the stiletto he had used to attack Shelby and Rod fell out of the other arm, the one he had tried to conceal. He never had a chance.

Shelby lunged forward and kicked him in the crotch. Rod pulled the belt off from around his pants and started strangling Ed. Patty Mary, for her part, started kicking Ed on the right side of his ribcage while George did the same from his left. Peter, meantime, had retrieved the stiletto and was now slashing Ed's legs, alternating between left and right.

It took them about a minute, but Ed finally collapsed on the ground, begging for mercy. But Ruthie was having none of it.

"As ye sow, so shall ye reap," she said. She grabbed the syringe and jabbed it into his left vein. By this time, the riot squads had already run in; having heard the commotion and ready to open fire, ready to finish off Ed with bullet glory. What they witnessed was far worse.

Ed slowly passed out. About a minute later, he gasped for air as one of the drugs shut down his breathing. His face was rapidly turning a pale shade of blue when his body started convulsing, the obvious effect of the final drug shutting down the heart. In a legal execution, the movements would have been minimized as the condemned had been strapped down. In this case, with nothing to hold him down, the body was shaking so hard the ancient floor boards were rattling and the furniture in the room shaking with it.

Finally, after what was only three minutes but which seemed like an eternity, Ed finally stiffened up. He was dead.

"We'll leave it to you cops to determine jurisdiction. Gentlemen, ladies, shall we?" Ruthie said coldly, as the six stood up, straightened out their clothes, and walked out the American side of the house as if nothing had ever happened.

The SWAT teams looked at each other in amazement. Their assistance hadn't been needed at all. How did the six escape relatively unscathed?

"By the way, Shelby," said Rod, "that baby of yours isn't Ed's, is it?"

"Of course not," said Shelby, kissing her husband. "It's ours. But I had to do something to break the impasse. And no, there's no way I would have ever let him touch me again. I knew he had that stiletto with him all along and I was going to grab it from him even if he had tried. As for the rest of what I told him, it's true – but it's nothing therapy can't help us with. I want us to have lots of children, your and mine."

Ruthie shook her head sullenly.

"It's over, sweetie," said Peter.

"That's not what I'm thinking about," said Ruthie. "I'm wondering how Kevin's going to react to Lucy having sex with Roxanne."


	21. Fessing Up

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"Look Kevin, I'm sorry," said Lucy. "I wasn't in the right frame of mind at the time, and neither was Roxanne. It just happened."

The husband and wife were having lunch at Pete's Pizza.

"Forget it," said Kevin. "I had her, too. That doesn't make what you did right, and it doesn't make my adultery right either; but you and she have been friends for so long it was inevitable. For what it's worth, I've been her beat partner so long that what happened between her and me was bound to happen, too."

"So, that's it?" asked Lucy in shock. "You're just going to drop it?"

"What's the point in dragging it out? We have three kids, another on the way, and the last thing our kids need is more disruption in their lives. But I'd just like to know why."

Lucy sighed. She had been rehearsing this speech for weeks, but now the time had come to confront her husband with the truth, she was at a loss for words. It took her a few minutes to collect her thoughts. Finally, she spoke.

"Roxie and I – well, I knew about an affair she once had with another woman. She confided that to me a couple of years ago at one of our weekly pizza dinners. I was surprised at first; but knowing she had been raped, I could see why she would have wanted to see all men as the enemy; why she would want to be a lesbian to make a political statement.

"Well, when you hear something like that, it naturally makes you curious. It makes you want to explore your own self-being and worth, make you want to wonder what it's like. And, let's face it, I may have never been as athletically inclined as Mary was, but I did take a couple of gym classes in high school. I was in the locker room when all the other girls were undressing at the same time as me. One can't help but get aroused by that. Not that I ever would have acted on it then, because I was stuck in the middle between Rod Parker, Jimmy Moon and Jordan Johansson. And I certainly didn't want to embarrass my sisters.

"But the more time went on, the more curious I got. I thought that had all come to an end when I found you, fell in love with you and married you. But there was always Roxanne. She has been a part of our lives ever since you moved to the West Coast to take your job here. You two have always made a great team. Plus, because you two are of the opposite sex, you guys have gotten a much better appreciation of the other half. I know, because Roxanne keeps telling me she's a much better woman for having known you. And even if there is life for her beyond Chandler, she'll always be grateful for having known you."

"So what happened that night when you two were together in that hotel room?" asked Kevin.

"After Roxie and I said our prayers and went into our separate beds," replied Lucy, "I looked across to her bed as she was turning out the bedside lamp. She was wearing, I don't know how to describe it, but it was a very provocative nightgown. She, in turn, was scanning my body, or least imagining what might be under what I was wearing. And … well, it just happened. It didn't take long, but in no time flat, she and I were just all over each other.

"It was like she and I had been meant to be together all along. She didn't seduce me, we seduced each other. I'm going to spare you the details … but when it was all over, I experienced feelings that I hadn't ever felt before. Call me crazy, but it was the first time since our wedding night that I actually felt validated as a woman. Not even giving birth had topped that.

"At least she and Chandler had the courage to admit it was all over for them. I couldn't do that _vis-à-vis _you and me. My roots are in this town, and so is my church. If my deacons and my congregants are willing to forgive me, the least _I _can do is forgive myself and not do something like that again. I don't expect your forgiveness, Kevin, because I don't deserve it. I'm not quite sure I can forgive you yet for what you and she did. But at least you had her before I did."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Kevin.

"Oh come on, surely you weren't temped to do it with her the moment you two laid eyes on each other? Come on, Kevin, give. And don't forget, Roxanne may have already told me, but she may have made it up too, so I want to hear it from you."

"All right, fine!" Kevin said angrily. "Four weeks before you and I got married, Roxie and I went down on each other, in a broom closet at the police station. It was over in about five minutes, and we thought we'd never do it again. But we did, and when it happened, we went all the way. I'm not proud of it, and I know she isn't either. That act of infidelity cost her her marriage to Chandler. Not what you and she did, but what she and I did."

Kevin was at the point of being shrill. He paused so he could regain his voice. Finally, he continued:

"Why do you want to stay with me? If it's just because of the kids, that's not a reason to have a marriage."

"No, it's not just that," said Lucy. "It's because I really do love you; probably not as much as I should, otherwise I wouldn't have had sex with Chandler, either. I want us to work this thing out, and I know it's going to take time. I know it'll mean separate beds or even separate bedrooms for a while. It'll mean a lot of counselling, and a lot of therapy – both the emotional kind and the physical one.

"But I'm a member of the First Estate, and my first duty is to God. And if God were here right now, He – or She – would tell me, 'Go forth, and do not sin again.' I have no intention of ever doing anything like that again. You and our kids are a package deal. If I can't have you, I'm not having any man. I'm going to go back to work, try to be the best minister and mother and wife I can, and all the while try to live the life God wants me to lead – and hope that my transgression will not be held against me."

"So what do we do now?" asked Kevin.

"We just take it one day at a time," said Lucy. "You just said you want to move on. I'm willing to do the same. For now, we have some loose ends to tie up. You and Roxie have to wrap up your investigation of the murders; and I have to go over to the church and counsel a troubled couple. I've been helping them for months, but now that I've made myself a hypocrite I'm in a much better position to help them. Ironic, isn't it?"

"So … are you?" asked Kevin.

"Am I what?"

"You know."

"No, I don't."

"Are you bisexual?" asked Kevin meaningfully.

"If you want to put it that way, Kevin," said Lucy in exasperation, _"yes,_ I am. I do go both ways. I probably always have, but I didn't want to admit it until the right Roxanne and I made love. But I have decided to live my life as a heterosexual. _Not _because what I did was wrong, because of course it was. _Not_ because I likedhaving sexwith Roxanne, although I obviously did. I've made my choice because it's the right thing for _me. _Not for society, not my congregation, not my family, not you. It's the right thing for me. As much as I could spend the rest of my life with Roxanne Richardson, it wouldn't be right for me or for her. I'm sure she'd agree with me on that point; that's why she and Chandler are still going to live together with their kids even if they're all in separate bedrooms. Maybe she's holding out hope that someday she and him can reconcile and share the same bed together once more.

"So it's the same with me. I'm a minister, but I'm also a mother. And what our kids need is a mother and a father. There may be a lot of kids out there who do fine with only one parent, or with two fathers or two mothers, or their natural parents and a stepparent, and so on. But we're talking about our kids. The kids for whom you sowed the seed; which I carried for both of us, bore fruit, and gave birth to. And what our kids need you and me, Kevin – and no one else. That's why I've made my decision, and I'm sticking by it. And it's going to take some time before we can trust each other again to share the same bed – to have earned the right to share the same bed.

"But I'm going to work every day to earn your trust again. I expect nothing less than the same from you, because if you want my body, you're going to have to earn the right too. I don't trust you yet, but someday I will."

"Maybe we can talk to Dr. Gibson sometime this week," said Kevin. "He might be able to help us or at least refer us to someone who can."

By that time, their meal had gotten cold. So they asked for it to be wrapped to be taken home.

As Lucy got into her car, a thought crossed her mind. "Kevin, this is totally unrelated to what we were talking about; but how are the cops treating Ruthie and the other guys?"

"I can't give away too much," said Kevin, "but let me put it to you this way: something tells Roxie and me that what Ruthie and Peter and the others did go way beyond self-defence.We think they had it in for Ed – that they were going to kill him all along. The only question we have is, were their lives in imminent danger at that particular moment in time? Roxanne, I and all the other cops assigned to this have been trying to figure it out."

"What are they saying?" asked Lucy.

"They asked to speak to a lawyer. They say it's their constitutional right. Which it is, but when that's the first thing that comes out of a suspect's mouth in an interrogation, we always presume guilt."

"That's not the way it's supposed to be," said Lucy, getting into her car and powering it up. She closed the door and rolled down the window. "I thought it's innocent until proven guilty."

"In the courts, yes," said Kevin. "That's not how we cops operate."

Lucy shrugged and drove off for her appointment at the church. She reached into her glove compartment at the first stoplight and pulled out the Roman collar. She slipped it around her neck, the first time she had done so since her first act of infidelity – with Chandler.


	22. The Future

**Chapter Twenty-Two (Conclusion)**

The three couples at the centre of the storm, surrounded by their lawyers, were in for the grilling of a lifetime. Kevin and Roxanne just couldn't understand why the six had finally lashed out the way they did, performing in the end what amounted to an extra-judicial execution.

Ruthie, Peter, George, Patty Mary, Rod and Shelby felt like they were repeating their stories _ad nauseum_ as they kept recounting the events of the last two months – the rapes, running around the country, being holed up, getting kidnapped and finally taking advantage of their tormentor's vulnerability. For some reason, they just couldn't get through to their interrogators. Finally, Ruthie had enough and turned the tables on her brother-in-law.

"Kevin," she said coldly, "there is a huge conflict of interest here. One, you're related to me by marriage. Two, you slept with _her..." – _ Ruthie pointed her finger at Roxie. "—and three, you have absolutely no right to presume for us what you might have done in similar circumstances. I seem to recall a few years ago, you two were called to check on a vagrant who was drunk beyond belief and had passed out. No sooner than you checked on them than Roxanne got her wrist slashed. You didn't hesitate for a minute, even though you two were barely friends at that point. You immediately called 'Officer down,' and worked to save her life until the paramedics got there."

"What's that got to do with this?" asked Roxanne in exasperation.

"Everything," replied Ruthie. "We were merely looking out after our own self interest. Robbie's father would have killed us if he had the chance. He killed all those other people, after all. Our lives were in a clear and present danger, and we acted in self-preservation. Our methods may have been rather unorthodox; to be fair, but you and Kevin would have acted no differently. You know that."

"Kinkirk, a word – outside?"

Roxanne and Kevin stepped outside to the observation room next door, behind the one-way mirror. Apparently, Captain Michaels had been following the whole thing.

"Let them go," said Michaels. "Let this end."

"You think they're guilty," said Kevin.

"Of course they are," said Michaels, "but no jury in the world will convict them. They took out a traitor, and in the eyes of the people, they're national heroes. I'm surprised they haven't been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. A Canadian ambassador won it for freeing some American hostages in Iran – which was far less in my book. They stopped a mass murderer, and as far as I'm concerned, that's one time two wrongs make a right."

Roxanne shook her head. "You know, sir, I was just about to recommend dropping the thing myself."

Kevin was shocked. "For the love of God, Richardson, why?"

"Ruthie's right," said Roxie. "If you and I were in that room, we would have acted in the same way. Let's tell them that."

The cops returned to the room.

"Okay, you're free to go, with sincere apologies from the Glen Oak Police Department," said Roxie. "Just one thing? You might want to call the Greenwich Chicks and tell them you're sorry."

"For what?" asked Peter.

"You walked out of that house right by them without even saying hello. They drove hours on end up to the border to try to save your lives, if it had come to that."

"Yeah, you're right," said Ruthie. "Come on, gang, let's go."

The couples went their separate ways once more. Ruthie and Peter finally began their long-delayed packing duties for their move to UCLA. In between their breaks, they managed to make love, but it seemed almost mechanical – as if they were doing it for the sake of doing it. But after the trauma of seeing so many friends killed and nearly losing their freedom, it was far better than nothing.

Meanwhile, Lucy finally confessed to her parents about her infidelities – first with Chandler, then with Roxanne. To her surprise, Annie and Eric were understanding and immediately forgiving.

"I'm just surprised it didn't happen sooner," said Annie. "You and Kevin had been in trouble for far longer than we imagined. We saw the warning signs for nearly a year, but we just felt it wasn't our place to tell you two. We wanted you two to figure it out. We can't condone what you did, Luce, but we won't hold it against you. What you did with both Dr. Hampton and Officer Richardson was mean. Mean as a spouse, that is, but not cowardly mean. I know you never meant to hurt Kevin. And the fact you two want to work it out says more about you both as a wife and as a minister."

"Just don't do it again," added Eric. "I'm very, very disappointed in you, Lucy. But I understand. I can't tell you the number of times I was tempted, and you know I finally did give into temptation – so many years after I thought I had given up on all women except Annie. And even your mother cheated on me."

He paused.

"You really think you two can work it out?"

"We have to," said Lucy, truly remorseful now. "I have another baby on the way, and Kevin has every right to my unborn child as our other children. It is his, after all. It may take the rest of our lives, but I'm going to earn his trust again. I hope he can earn mine. I told him I forgave him for sleeping with Roxanne, but I'm not quite sure I really have. I might someday."

Lucy suddenly realized what her sermon would be that Sunday. She excused herself, headed for the study, and began pounding away at her desktop.

The following Sunday, the last of the summer holidays, the church was crowded once more. Lucy didn't mince words as she offered a full accounting of what happened in the last few months.

"There's no easy way for me to say this, folks, I have sinned," Lucy said. "I betrayed my husband in the worst possible way. Not only did I sleep with one of my colleagues, I then proceeded to do the same with my husband's long time professional partner. Ever since, I have asked myself why I did it; and the answer is that there is no answer. It was just a total lack of judgement on my part. I had to deceive myself and many others to justify what I did. In the end, I can't. I can only thank the deacons for their unequivocal support. I only ask the same from you.

"I can promise you this: I won't do anything like that again. Kevin and I are absolutely determined to save our marriage, and to try to set a good example for the rest of you. To that end, I want to say once again that I am offering my services as a marriage counsellor. If any of you think you're headed for trouble, the time to act is now, before it becomes a real issue – like it did for us.

"And one last thing: this is the last weekend Ruthie and Peter are going to be with us. I just want to wish them all the best in their marriage as they start school. They're not sure what they want to do with the rest of their lives, but suffice it to say, they want to make this world a better place. I know they will."

Lucy wasn't sure what response she was going to get, but it was immensely supportive. To a person, every parishioner welcomed her back into the fold.

Ruthie and Peter left Glen Oak the next day after tearful goodbyes all around. As they drove away, Ruthie suddenly thought of something.

"Do you think we can do this, Peter? Go to school and raise a family all at the same time?"

"Yeah, we can. Why?"

"I was just wondering if it may be not too late to drop and add some courses."

"If you're thinking ROTC, forget it," said Peter. "We killed two human beings. I'm not going to learn how to do it legally."

"No," said Ruthie. "I know what I want to do with the rest of my life. I want to help people. I'm going to be a social worker."

"Funny," said Peter, "that's what I want to do, too!"

Ruthie smirked. "Pull over, next exit."

"Why?"

"There's a hotel that charges $10 an hour for day-nighters. I'm in the mood for a quickie to celebrate our future before we head for La La Land."

"You don't need to ask twice," said Peter.

TO BE CONTINUED …


End file.
